Red Herring
by MrsRen
Summary: In the years following the war, Theodore Nott has built a reputation as a successful lawyer. At the same time, he's made a fair amount of enemies. As the death threats begin to mount, the Ministry assigns Auror Hermione Granger for his protection. [THEOMIONE.]
1. Chapter 1

**This has been in the works for a while, six months approximately I think, and I finished writing my Harmony WIP today. So here we are. Yay, new story. This is slated for 15 chapters. The first section is from Harry's POV to set the story, and after that is from Hermione's. I don't anticipate that will change again. Thanks to Frumpologist and mcal to cheering me on!**

**Warnings: Violence (possibly graphic depiction, I'm not there yet), Sexual Content (explicit, I'm sure), and there are no triggers involving main character death, and rape/non-con. **

**Final Note: This was written for my dear friend, The Mourning Madam. She gifted me the prompt, and looked over the outline. She's had a long year, so I think she deserves everything, and **_**you**_ **should go leave her love on her stories and everywhere. **

* * *

The office of Head Auror Potter seemed to be a revolving door of neverending problems. It had been a long time since he'd been able to really fling himself into fieldwork, instead of sitting behind a desk and solving the less than savoury problems of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

It helped that it made his wife happy, but even so.

Harry eyed the evergrowing list of files on his desk, sighing and grabbing hold of the entire stack. He flipped them upside down, the first trick that he'd been taught when it came to running the department. The files that they didn't want him to see, and usually the most important ones, were usually nestled at the bottom. He flicked the file open, his eyes widening at the complaint that awaited him.

"Maria!" He shouted. Harry pushed away from his desk, the bottom of the rolling share squeaking as he did so. "Maria!" He hollered once more, stomping across his office and throwing the door open.

His secretary was a middle aged, no nonsense type of woman who reminded him a little too much of Molly Weasley. Unfortunately, her desk was empty. He looked around, his wire-framed glasses slipping down his nose as he did so. "You," he barked, the file still clenched in his hand.

The intern's face drained of colour as she froze mid-step. "Head Auror Potter," she greeted nervously, her fingers flexing around the file in her hands.

He didn't recognise her, and judging as Hogwarts had just let out for summer hols, she looked to be one of the new interns. He raised his chin. "Have you seen Maria?" Harry asked, not unkindly, but there was an urgency seeping into his voice.

She shook her head. "I saw her leaving for her lunch break a half hour ago. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you. I'll take care of it myself. Thank you." Harry brushed past her, raking his fingers through his hair as he hurried toward the lift.

Since his secretary was on lunch, he supposed he'd just have to find the man in question himself. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, not particularly looking forward to the meeting at all.

* * *

"Potter."

"Malfoy." Harry sighed as the man closed the door to his office. "I came across your complaint."

A pale brow rose. Malfoy snorted, falling into his leather chair behind his desk. "I must have submitted it two weeks ago, minimum. I'd expect for the DMLE to take a special interest in death threats, especially ones targeting a higher than normal official."

Harry didn't ask before taking the seat across from him, slapping the manilla file onto the desk between them. "I apologise for the lack of communication. It will be dealt with. How long has this been going on?"

Malfoy rested his elbows on his desk, propping his head up with his palm. "Theo has always received death threats. They started shortly after they allowed him to earn his certification as a barrister. These are different, and he chucks them out."

"Why aren't they being screened by his secretary? Surely he understands Ministry policy? Each of these should have been vetted as soon as they entered the building." Harry said roughly. "I don't think I need to say how bad this is, Malfoy. These aren't typical threats."

The blond man sat across from him cleared his throat. "They haven't been read by his secretary because they're coming straight to Nott Manor. He attempts to throw them away, but his house elf brings them to me right away."

"How did you manage to get Nott's house elf to bring _you_ anything?" Harry asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "Why isn't he taking these seriously?" He flipped the file open, snatching up the first threat, which was hardly one. "He has a full-fledged stalker."

Draco pulled the moving photograph from his hand, despite having already seen it once before. It captured Theo stumbling out of a pub in Diagon Alley, a buxom blonde on his arm. Theo had never seen the witch again after the photo had been sent, determining that it was too much of a risk, Draco answered. "He refuses to believe he's in danger, but I'm worried."

Harry plucked the photograph from the slender fingers gripping it, and he tucked it back into the file. "After what I've seen in this," Harry shook it, frustrated, "I'm worried as well. I can assign an Auror to be with him at all times, but first I'll need to open an investigation. Nott's a hell of a lawyer, so it's best I can prove without a doubt that he needs the protection."

Theodore Nott was the exact type to fight his own protection.

Malfoy blew out a harsh breath, adjusting his St Mungos coat. "Can I make a request for which Auror you assign?"

"I'll take it into consideration, I suppose," Harry replied, standing from his seat. "I hope you realise I'm going to put Nott with someone who can protect him."

The man nodded. "I do, but…" Malfoy trailed off, swallowing hard. "Put Granger on him. She's got the highest success rate these days from what I hear. They did an article over her last week in _Witch Weekly._"

"Hermione?" Harry echoed. "I'll see what I can do, but she's out of the country right now. By the time I arrange this, she ought to be back."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, relaxing against the leather. "Look," the man began, causing Harry to pause. "I know that she probably has no interest in protecting someone who—"

Harry raised a dark brow. "She's a professional. Any personal grudges, which she doesn't have any toward Theodore Nott, wouldn't come in the way of her job."

"Are you sure she doesn't have a grudge because she's a terror each time they cross paths."

Harry chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Are we going to have this conversation? I'll be in touch. Do me a favour, and don't let Nott know anything about this."

There was Malfoy's nod and then Harry closing the door behind him.

* * *

Hermione arrived in London in the early morning hours. It was silent around her in Diagon Alley, but within a few hours, it would come to life. Bundling her scarf around her neck, and pulling it over her chapped lips, she took in the frost that had settled over the streets. It was Christmas, officially.

Diagon Alley would be closed for the day for witches and wizards to spend time with their families. How had she forgotten what day it was?

Her scarf slipped from her face as she hurried toward the nearest public Apparition point. She crossed Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. There was a light on in the flat over the shop. She wondered why George was awake so early, and almost wished she was closer to the man so it wasn't strange for her to check in on him.

She wasn't though. Snow crunched beneath Hermione's boots as she made her way down the street.

Upon landing inside her flat, she noticed the layer of dust that covered everything. It'd been a month since she'd been home at all, and she spent more time away than home anymore. Harry hated it, so did Ron, but keeping busy was the best thing for her. Leaning against the back of the sofa, she removed her boots, tucking her wool socks inside of them.

She lit a fire with just a movement of her hand, and muttering the incantation, "_Incendio._" Warmth slowly spread through the room as she held her hands in front of the fire.

The Floo connected behind her, and she turned to see a small face hovering in the fire. "James?" Granted, he wasn't so small anymore. She couldn't spin him around quite so easily, but he was in his second year of Hogwarts. "What are you doing?" Hermione laughed.

"Dad said your wards let him know someone entered your flat." James quipped. He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking to be the perfect image of his father. "He thought someone broke in."

She arched a brow. "So he sent you to call an intruder?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. He's already on his way over, but I assumed that you'd just come home for Christmas. You wouldn't miss it, you know?"

He was wrong, but Hermione said nothing. "And if you were wrong? What if someone had broken into my flat?"

Albus elbowed his way into the flames. "We were hoping that we'd get to see Dad kick somebody's arse." His voice was smaller than his brother's, honest and earnest.

Hermione burst into laughter. She knew that Harry had been itching for a fight since he left fieldwork—well, for the most part—and she knew it was the only reason he sprang out of bed. "Well, it's just me. There will be no arse kicking today."

James looked to Albus, his eyes widening. Just as she turned away, James shouted, "Wait! Could you pretend that you didn't know Dad was coming?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Pardon?"

"I just mean, if you didn't know he was coming, you'd think he was an intruder. So you could…"

"Kick his arse?" She supplied. "Well, I may need to. His response time is terrible. How long have we been on the Floo?"

A sudden, vicious crack vibrated through her flat. Harry stood on the other side of the room, wand drawn, but he didn't look menacing at all while in his pyjamas. "You're home late." He deadpanned. "What the fuck happened?"

"Naughty word!" Came another voice and Hermione looked to the Floo. Lily had joined her brothers. "Swear jar!"

Hermione sniggered. "You have a swear jar now? Your poor kids, they won't have anything left for their Hogwarts supplies, potty mouth."

Harry dragged a hand down his face, sighing heavily. "Shouldn't my kids be waiting for their presents?"

"Apparently me duelling you and winning is the best present they could ask for." Hermione snarked. "We can discuss why I'm late another time."

He ushered her to the Floo. "You're coming to family Christmas. In you go," Harry stared at his children. "Get out of the way or I'll sit on you when I come through." They scattered. As Hermione stepped into the fireplace, he said, "For the record, I would win in a duel."

She knew that he most likely would. It didn't stop her from teasing her. "What are you going to do? _Expelliarmus_ me to death?"

Harry glared at her. "Fuck off."

She held a hand out. "Swear jar."

* * *

Ginny wrapped her into a tight hug as they came through. "We were worried about you." The woman whispered. "You're alright?"

Hermione smiled. "Nothing to worry about." She untangled herself from her friend and followed her into the sitting room.

All three children sat around the tree, their hands eagerly planted on the first presents they would open. It was immediately after that Hermione saw Teddy laying on the sofa, halfway hanging off. His hair was a different colour than the last time she'd seen him at Halloween in Hogsmeade. Now it was a bright purple.

Hermione sat at the end of the adjacent sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. James tossed a small box to her that seemed to be a collective gift from all of the Potters. It was curious. Almost every year, whether it was a birthday or Christmas, she received books. As much as she enjoyed reading, it was hardly her only hobby. She closed her hand over it, watching the kids tear into their presents.

Harry and Ginny sat beside her on the sofa, both sipping tea. He handed Hermione a cup of coffee. "Have you had any sleep?"

She shook her head. "No, I've been travelling by international portkey all night. I'll sleep later. Where's Ron?"

Usually, Ron, his wife, and their two, now three, kids joined the Potters for Christmas morning. Harry glanced toward Ginny before replying. "They decided not to join us this year. I understand he wants to spend the morning with his family just like I do, but we'll see them at the Burrow for lunch. You'll come, won't you?"

Hermione didn't hear the question. She was too old to be worried about intruding on his family, considering she knew just how welcome she was, but the wording struck her like a bludger. "Do you want to celebrate the morning alone?"

His eyes widened, and he looked to James who was loudly whooping that he'd gotten a new broomstick. "That's not what I meant."

"Okay," Hermione said with an easy smile. "I wouldn't mind if that was what you wanted. I could catch a few hours sleep and join you at the Burrow if that was the case." Merlin, they were really too old to be going back and forth on this. "I just wanted to be sure is all."

Ginny laughed from her seat. "Do you like it?"

Lily proudly held up the newest joke set from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. "I can't wait for James and Albus to return to Hogwarts." She traced a finger over the itching powder encased in the plastic. "Gives me a couple of months to prank you really good."

* * *

Hermione didn't dislike visiting the Burrow. She was still part of the extended family as Molly said, but it was uncomfortable. Like something was stuck under her skin and she was dying to escape from the moment she arrived.

She didn't dislike Lavender either. Their school rivalry revolving around Ron Weasley had been long put to rest, but it was hard looking at her. Looking at them when she knew just why everything had fallen apart with her and fallen into place with Lavender.

Still, the woman rushed Hermione as soon as she saw her, pulling her into a tight, friendly hug. "Hermione, it's been ages!" Lavender squealed.

"Eight weeks is a long time." Hermione grinned, patting her back before stepping away. "Where's the baby?"

Lavender grinned ear to ear, holding up a finger as she disappeared around a corner. She reappeared while holding an impeccably dressed baby who'd been born with a full head of red hair. "Had to pry him away from Molly. She'll probably be around the corner once she hears you're home."

Genuinely smiling, Hermione took the baby and spun while holding him tightly to her chest. He let out a giggle, and Hermione laughed. "How are the kids?"

"Oh, the same. Scarlett is a hellion. All she wants to do is go to Hogwarts, and it's less than a year away now."

"Oh, but that's not enough." Hermione laughed. "She wants to go right _now_."

"Rose is still reading through all of the books you bought her. I can hardly get her to do anything else." Lavender motioned across the room to where her two daughters were standing. Ten and nine years old, Ron and Lavender hadn't wasted any time.

Hermione knew it was because they wanted the Potter and Weasley children as close as possible. "Well, for the moment, Fred is my favorite." It had been a year since he'd been born, but the familiar name rolling off her tongue still twisted her gut.

She wondered if it was the same for others.

Hermione nuzzled her nose against Fred's, smiling wide as he threw his hands up. "Who's just the cutest little baby I've ever seen?"

"Rose wants to be an Auror now."

Her head snapped up. Lavender's expression had changed swiftly, worry clouding her features. "She's only nine; she may change her mind still."

"To tell you the truth, it's one of the only things she'll talk about. 'When I'm an Auror, I'll do this, or that.' What parent wants their child to be an Auror?" Lavender sucked in a breath. "Not that you—"

Hermione held up a hand. "No offence taken. It's a dangerous job at times. If I had children, I'm sure I wouldn't want it either."

"I've been waiting for you to come home to pick your brain about it." Lavender admitted. "It didn't seem so urgent to write when we didn't know where you were."

She shifted Fred to her other hip. "I'm not sure I'm the ideal person to discuss it with. I don't have kids. I have no parental experience."

"I know," Lavender said quietly, taking a side to the right, pivoting away from the room. "I just wondered what you thought."

Rose was laughing loudly after pushing Victoire and Teddy under an enchanted mistletoe.

"If she wants to be an Auror, you'll do more damage by discouraging her goals than if you encourage them " Hermione answered. "She may very well grow out of this, and want another career."

She tucked blonde strands behind her ears as she nodded. "I thought that's what you would say. You're right. Thank you."

Hermione blinked. She hadn't done anything at all. "Of course. You're welcome."

* * *

Harry insisted that she take a couple of days off. In the same conversation, he mentioned that he had a new mission for her, and it would be long term. It would also be close to home.

She spent a small amount of time wondering what it was. Other than that, she took a long soak in the bath, read two books that she picked up, and did some much needed shopping.

Even though she was under orders to avoid the Ministry, she visited Harry for lunch on the last day before she would return to work. The walk across the atrium provided scattered hellos, and momentary surprise as others passed her. She'd been gone for a long time, she supposed.

The lift was rickety in the same spots as she remembered, and there was a wobbling part next to her ear. Brushing elbows with the man beside her, she stepped onto Harry's floor. It was a sea of people, all chattering, the collective panic almost palpable in the air.

Hermione stopped beside Auror Boot's desk, hovering as he stared at the file in front of him. "What's going on?"

He didn't raise his head. Terry handed her a photograph, and her stomach sank. It was a body, the head nearly severed. "Fuck's sake," Hermione breathed.

"Look at this one." He handed another, still not lifting his head. "Whoever is doing this is a seriously sick fuck."

In the next photo, there were runes carved into the victim's back. She wasn't sure what they were used for without research, but near the bottom of his back, she recognised the Dark Mark. "He's dead."

Terry nodded. "We were all there to see it. Harry and his _Expelliarmus_. The noseless bastard disintegrating, but if this makes it to the public, we'll have an outcry."

The Wizarding World would believe there was a third act of Voldemort coming. "Was he discovered this morning?"

"Glamoured on the edge of the Thames. Best guess is whoever left him wanted him to be found by an Auror on patrol."

Hermione handed the photos back, making a beeline straight for Harry's office without making time for pleasantries. Pushing the door open without knocking, she paused in the doorway as she Malfoy stood from the chair across from Harry. "I didn't think you had anyone. I'll wait."

Harry rubbed his temples. "No need, Malfoy was just leaving."

She lingered in the doorway, nodding to Malfoy as he brushed past her. But the look he gave her was curious, indiscernible really. Hermione closed the door behind her, taking the seat across from Harry. "In my defence, I came to have lunch with you."

He dropped his glasses to his desk, leaning back in his chair. "But that's not what you're here for now."

"I want to start working now. That was a grisly murder." No sooner had the words left her mouth, Harry shook his head. "What difference does it make whether I return to work today or tomorrow?"

"The difference is that you're not working that case," Harry replied. "I already told you that there was an assignment waiting two days ago. This was just discovered this morning. Since you're already here, however, let's talk about your new assignment."

She sat ramrod straight in her chair, waiting. "You have a sour look on your face."

"Commit it to memory then because I'm sure you'll look the same in a minute. You know Theo Nott, don't you? Big shot lawyer now, taller than Ron or I, a bit of a—"

"I know who he is," Hermione said smoothly. "Go on."

"He has a stalker. For the past two, maybe three, months death threats have been sent directly to his home. There were photographs showing where he's been, who he's been with, and it was brought to me that he's in danger."

Clearly so, but she already knew where this conversation was leading. "I'm his bodyguard, aren't I?"

Harry nodded. "It was Malfoy who filed a report, and brought it to my attention. Nott is convinced that the threats can be disregarded, but it's a risk I'm not prepared to take."

Rational. "Okay. I've acted as a bodyguard before." She was confident in that moment that she understood, and that she had it under control.

He ripped the metaphorical rug out from under her. "Not like this. It's a 24/7 mission, Hermione. Once this starts, you'll be living in Nott Manor until we find the stalker."

Her lips parted, and then her jaw was hanging open. "You're—Nott has agreed to all of this?"

Silence.

"Don't you _dare _tell me he doesn't even know."

Harry smirked. "I must not tell lies."

She wanted to throw his name plate at his head. "I won't be the one to drop the news on him."

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this. Please leave me a comment if you did! I endeavor to update weekly, but I know it's going to be hard going into holiday season. So please, just trust me to keep this going until the end. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all your love on the first chapter of this story. I know I've said, and marked that this will be 15 chapters, but the number could increase depending on how chapter flow goes. I'm glad that Hermione's characterization has been received so well, I hope I'll keep delivering on that! In case this wasn't clear, this story is based 15 years after the war. **

**This is not beta'd beyond me, myself, and I. If there are are embarrassing typos, I would be grateful if you told me.**

* * *

Theodore Nott was, in a few words, incredibly frustrating.

Wasting no time, Hermione opened an official investigation within an hour of leaving Harry's office. She brushed arms with Ron in the shared break room, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Black, as per her normal without sugar, and he looked scandalised that she drank it that way. Nevermind that he'd known how she took her coffee and had always teased her for it in the shared lazy mornings of their home.

Hermione gave him a tight-lipped smile before briskly walking toward the lift. While the cubicles for lower Aurors and offices for Senior Aurors were held on the same floor as the DMLE, she would find the evidence of Nott's stalker in the Archives.

The DMLE archives hadn't always been on level thirteen, a level that isn't printed on lifts that cater to other Ministry employees. Stepping into the service elevator, aware that the Goldstein is staring at her from the corner of her eye, she didn't spare a glance before flattening her palm against the large red button set aside from the other floors.

"Just roll out of bed?" He mocked.

Hermione rolled her head from side to side, sipping her still too hot coffee.

"Heard you were on a mission out of the country for a couple of months. What was that about?" She knew him well enough—not by her own choice—that his questions wouldn't stop. "You'd think Potter wouldn't let his Aurors come to work while wearing sweatpants, and a jumper. Clearly, his favoritism is showing."

Unless she was in the field, her attire didn't matter, but had Hermione known she would be taking a case, she would be in uniform. "Thanks for the advice, Goldstein. Might I offer you a bit?"

He glared at her, seemingly knowing that it would be an insult to leave her mouth.

"Your fly is unzipped." It was, but only due to a trickle of wandless, and non-verbal magic while the lift had climbed the few floors. She offered him a smile from behind her styrofoam cup. She stepped into the Archives as the bell over her head sounded.

As the doors closed behind her, carrying away her insufferable co-worker, she let out a breath. The room that surrounded her was filled with metal shelves that climbed to the ceiling some twenty feet up. During renovations years previously, the room had been magically extended by a team of Unspeakables.

Hermione set her cup on the table nearest to the section labelled NA-NO. Ignoring the ladder that she was meant to use by order of bureaucratic policy, Hermione summoned all files related to Theodore Nott to the workbench. Stacking themselves in a neat pile, she sorted through them quickly. Only two files were stamped with dates prior to the end of the war, and she sent them back with little more than a wave of her hand.

Flipping open to the start of the threats, a photograph taken of Nott standing outside an upscale restaurant named Lotus, Hermione stayed there until everyone else had gone home.

* * *

Two Aurors by the names of Marcus and David were put on Nott for the time being. There would come a time, and it would come quickly, that Hermione would be under orders to live inside of Nott Manor until the stalker was caught.

Right at that moment, she preferred the opportunity to follow Nott. Observation wasn't the most enjoyable part of her job, but the lawyer made it so easy she could cry. Inside the Ministry, she could take advantage of DMLE Code 657.9. A to create a window between his office and wherever she was. He'd never know until this was all over and he snooped through his own file, which he _would._

Hermione leaned back in her chair, flipping through the threats already sent. No wonder Nott had brushed them off. The language was borderline immature. _You'll regret this _or _This is your fault. _Truthfully, it didn't sound like anyone who could continue stalking.

The photographs made her blood run cold. There was Nott outside of a restaurant, with other members of the Wizengamot, out to dinner with his friends, but that wasn't all. The second photograph Hermione viewed was one of Nott and a small blond boy who she already knew to be Scorpius Malfoy. In the background were the tall iron gates of Malfoy Manor she'd been dragged through fifteen years previously.

The wards surrounding both homes were strong, checked by the DMLE once a year to be licensed. Rather than asking herself who could be the culprit—anyone could truly be the culprit, Hermione realised; Nott had made plenty of enemies over the years—she asked who would have access to both homes.

She scribbled a letter to Malfoy, sending it with a Ministry owl. At the moment, he was the only resource she had into Nott's private life.

There were photographs of Theo inside his home, snapped from outside a window. Likely taken by a bewitched camera with a powerful zoom, but she double checked the window behind her as her stomach churned. In one photograph that she skipped past, since it wasn't her business what he looked like, Nott was clad in only a bath towel around his waist.

On the back of the photograph read _I'll bleed you in your shower. _

She slammed the photo down, irritated that techs hadn't found anything. No magical residue, no overlapping spell that they could unravel, absolutely fucking nothing.

After an hour, staring at photographs wasn't helping. Hermione deposited the file into a locked drawer of her desk, standing as she saw Nott making his way into the Wizengamot Archives. Bumping into him sounded neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but with so many of his enemies having been made through his prosecuting them, his cases were the next best place for her to start.

* * *

The railing was smooth below her palm, chilly to the touch. Out of all the levels inside the Ministry, the one that held the Wizengamot, courtrooms, and archives were the coldest. A warming charm itched below the sleeves of her jacket, and with a sigh, Hermione opted for being cold rather than itchy.

Once in front of the door, she held her wand to the scanner to the right, waiting for the doors to slide open, granting her entrance. What had once been a normal sized room was now one that rivaled the size of the DMLE's. It had nearly tripled in size after the second war given all of those charged. Hermione didn't want to imagine what it had been like organising the room in the first place.

Magic might make everything simpler, but there were thousands of files.

She quickly made her way to the section labeled with his last name, her shoes making no sound against the floor. Her friends hated it, claiming that she was always sneaking up on them, but she just found it was easier to stay on her guard at all times rather than fully relaxing. The Ministry mandated shrink she saw once every six months told her that was paranoia setting in, and holding onto it so tightly was unhealthy.

The obvious choice was to start with investigating those he had prosecuted. She began with cases that were won just before the threats began six weeks earlier. The first two she pulled were laughable. One wizard had mistakenly vanished all of his clothes—_all _of them—in the middle of Diagon Alley. His defense had argued that there were no children, which was lucky, and he'd been charged a fine.

That wasn't what she was looking for.

After flipping through six cases, all cases won within a few hours by Nott, she came across one that caught her eye. A witch had poisoned her husband while using muggle means. Hermione found the woman was a Muggleborn, and her aunt was a nurse. Succinylcholine had been used, injected between his toes where Healers had barely found a needle mark. The man had survived by a slim margin, his magical core saving him.

The woman had been in Azkaban for six months, and while she was firmly stuck on the other side of the bend, she wasn't who Hermione was looking for either.

"Fuck." She shelved the file once more, pulling out the next.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione's shoulder stiffened as she looked to her right. Of all the dumb luck, Nott was standing in front of her, one dark brow arched. She snapped the file shut. "The DMLE thinks the body found last week may be the work of someone previously prosecuted. I'm investigating previous trials."

If he believed her, or even if he didn't, Nott's expression didn't change. "Why do you assume it's one of mine?" He asked. Nott's hand rose, unbuttoning his suit as he shifted his weight. His watch band peeked out from beneath his sleeve. "Any particular reason, or did you just happen to start in the middle of the room?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're the one who puts most of them away, aren't you? Everyone knows that."

He preened below the compliment, a smirk settling on his face. "Flattering. Have you found anything?"

Hermione laughed. "Unfortunately, no." Hermione watched as he laid a file on the table beside him, his hip bumping against the high back of the chair. "What do you have?"

The amusement slipped from his face, and his eyes grew dark as he held the file out to her. "How high is your clearance?"

The question is laughable. "Higher than yours." She snorted. Hermione took it, turning to the first page where she was met with a photograph of a young woman beaten bloody. With the St Mungos critical care unit set as the backdrop behind her, there's little question of what had put her there. "You know who did this?"

He dragged a hand through his hair, making it stick up in different directions. Nott immediately smoothed it down, but the frustration was still on his face. "I'm positive that it was Marcus Flint_, _but he claims to have an alibi for that night. You Aurors haven't been able to disprove it yet."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, dragging her finger down the page. The young woman's clothes had been ripped in several places. "Where was she attacked?"

"She was in Diagon Alley, walking toward the Apparition point, and someone dragged her into Knockturn Alley. Have you heard of Nox?"

She nodded. "The brothel? Of course, rather infamous, isn't it? Aurors respond to calls there every week."

"She was found laying in the alley just behind it, discarded like fucking trash." He clenched his jaw, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's broken probation twice, and his probation officer has refused to listen to the advice of the Wizengamot. If this is the third infraction…"

Hermione closed the case, understanding. "What's his alibi?"

"That pub next to the apothecary Aurors raided last week." Nott growled. "No one has been willing to snitch on him yet. Auror Bosley made the trip, but he's incompetent."

She hummed in agreement but didn't voice her opinions out loud. "I have an informant who works in that pub. If you can send the information up to my office, I'll go by there personally today, and I'll get what you need by noon tomorrow."

His eyes widened at her offer, and he nodded. "That would be great. I'll send a memo to your office within the hour."

Hermione turned away from him, nodding. "Perfect. I'll see you at noon tomorrow then." She didn't pause for his goodbye, only tightened her jacket around her frame as she walked around the shelf.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone idling just down the aisle that had been on the other side of her and Nott. "Percy?" Hermione walked toward him. "Are you alright?"

His fingers were clutched around the file in his hands, his fingers completely white. He gave a tense laugh before reassuring her that he was fine. "Oh, yes. It's just a difficult case this week. You understand, don't you?"

She did. Hermione patted his shoulder. "Of course. You'll get to the bottom of it, Percy."

* * *

The trip into Knockturn Alley is far from her favorite part of the day. Even so many years after the fall of Voldemort, it was still home to some of the seediest witches and wizards that didn't mix well with the rest of the population. Hermione kept to herself, brushing past a man who insulted her under his breath.

Blood prejudice was alive and well.

Mitch hung out in the back of the pub, leaned back in a chair with his feet kicked up on the countertop. "We're closed!" He yelled when the door dinged over her head.

Hermione locked the door behind her, her boots making little sound as she crossed the room. Tables were meticulously cleaned, chairs flipped over on top of them. "You ought to lock your door if you don't want company. Anyone could walk in; what if you're stuck with someone you don't want to talk to?" She smirked as she leaned on the counter, picking up his shoe by the toe of it, dropping it to the floor. "You wouldn't want that."

He sighed. "I knew you'd be by soon. Been too long since you harassed me about people coming in and out of this place."

"You know me so well. Do you know Marcus Flint?"

Water spewed out of his mouth. "Do I know him? I threw him into the street on his arse last night. Whatever he did after he left here isn't on me, Granger."

She shook her head. "No, he's using your pub as an alibi. Do you remember if he was here on the night of November second?"

Mitch groaned. "Goddammit, why can't you ever come in asking questions the day _after_? Do you have any idea how much I've drank since then?" He knelt beneath the counter, lugging a large book out from the shelving.

"Considering you keep firewhisky on tap, I have a vague idea."

"Lucky for you," he continued with a smug look about him, "I keep records of who enters the pub now. November second, you said?"

Hermione settled into the barstool, propping her head up by her chin. "Oh? You keep records now? I wonder who could have come up with that absolutely brilliant idea. Since it certainly wasn't you."

Mitch sneered at her. "Has anyone ever told you how much of a bitch you are?"

She grinned. "What do you think?"

He muttered under his breath that he should have just taken his arrest as it had been, and served his time.

"Oh, you and I both know you don't really mean that. You enjoy when I come by, even if you're determined to hide it."

"Yeah, okay," Mitch scoffed. "I miss you like I miss the curse my old girlfriend cast on my prick."

Snorting a laugh, Hermione ruled against asking why he'd been cursed in the first place. "Have you found anything?"

He shoved the book at her. "How am I meant to find anything when you never shut up? Take a look for yourself." Mitch snatched a glass from below that counter that was likely dirty, and he didn't give it a second glance as he filled it to the brim with firewhisky. "Don't comment on my day drinking."

She held a hand up in mock surrender as she looked over his records. "He wasn't here on November second. That blows his alibi to shite."

He raised his glass at that. "There ya go, Granger. Congrats, another case solved for you."

"Not quite." Hermione said gently, closing the book. "I think they will need to call you as a witness."

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, _fuck _no. You promised me that you wouldn't drag me into that cesspool they call a Ministry! That's the only reason I ever agreed to be your bloody informant."

Hermione realised that her smile probably wasn't reassuring at all. "I'll speak to a lawyer to arrange a private testimony. Ministry records are sealed, and no one would ever know you'd stepped inside."

The side of his mouth curled into a grimace. "How do you figure that considering I'll have to walk down to the Wizengamot myself? The records may be sealed, but if this fuckface is charged, it won't be long until someone knows it's because I'm a fucking rat!"

"I'll Apparate you in myself." Hermione said. "And I won't release your name unless they agree to my terms. Is that agreeable?"

He glared at her. "Only if there's a hefty amount of zeroes on the next check the Ministry gives me for being an informant."

"Stop it. You know they don't pay you." Hermione stood from her chair. "I'll bring you something though, just this once since you helped."

He stared at her carefully over the edge of his glass. "You never agree to give me things. You claim you could arrest me for attempting to bribe an Auror to release information."

She smiled. "Am I not allowed to be nice every once in a while, Mitch? We're friends."

"If you were a friend, you'd stop by and get drunk at least once." He argued. "Fine. bring me Honeydukes chocolate from Hogsmeade the next time you visit. I'm banned from Hogsmeade for a lifetime."

Yes, _that_ was a story. "There's chocolate in Diagon Alley."

He shook his head. "No, only from Hogsmeade."

It would be some time before she made a stop in Hogsmeade, probably not until she visited James with Harry on a weekend.

* * *

Just after lunch, Hermione checked as to whether Nott was still in his office. Cutting the connection of the two way window, she tucked the folder beneath her arm, while clutching her cup of coffee as she exited her office.

Harry fell into step beside her, arching an eyebrow as she made her way to the lift. "Hermione, it's good to see you."

"You saw me ten minutes ago." She muttered from behind her cup. Hermione watched as he spelled the door shut before anyone could board the lift alongside them. "Are you here to ask me how Nott's case is going?"

He nodded, dark hair falling into his face. "Have there been any leads?"

Unfortunately, no.

Hermione greedily swallowed a long drink of her coffee. "No."

Harry's hand shot out, his palm slamming against the button inside the lift. The lift came to a screeching halt, but she didn't move an inch. "Explain."

"I've sent the threats to the crime lab. I'm hoping they will find residual magic they can trace back to the caster, but I'm not optimistic. I visited the Wizengamot Archives yesterday to review his cases. There were too many to go through in the time I had, which was interrupted by Nott himself, but none of his convictions stood out. I'm actually on my way to Nott's office right now."

He arched a dark brow. "How are you managing that?"

She shrugged. Hermione handed the file to Harry, watching from behind her steaming travel mug as he flicked through it. "There's a case he's prosecuting, but the Aurors assigned to it were dragging their feet. I told him I would confirm, or disprove the alibi myself, and visit him today with the news."

"So you haven't told him what you're really doing?" Harry almost laughed.

"No," Hermione replied. "I plan on leaving that to you since it was ultimately your call. I just work here."

He snorted, and his hand fell from the button. "You just want inside his office."

"Yes, but it's not as if I'll be able to snoop through his things while he's there. I just want a quick look, maybe it will help. At the least, this," Hermione waved the file around as the lift shot down, "might make him trust me."

Harry watched her as she exited the lift, and gave a small nod. "Ginny is cooking tonight if you'd like to stop by. Lavender and Ron will be there as well."

"I'll do my best."

As Harry disappeared from her line of vision, Hermione let her false smile drop. Not that she minded seeing Lavender and Ron—she _didn't_ mind one bit—but she noticed how they seemed to pity her recently. She was still single, which was her choice, but her friends seemed to believe it was something that needed to be _fixed. _

As if she were _broken. _

Theodore Nott's office was at the very end of the corridor to the right. A wizard that passed her, billowing, ridiculous robes and all, stared down his nose at her, and she didn't bother with fake pleasantries. If the Wizengamot levels weren't built below ground, Hermione imagined Nott's office would have been the one that had windows.

His door was ajar, and she could hear papers swishing around the office. Lightly rapping her fingers on the frosted glass, Hermione stepped inside. "Are you available?"

Nott glanced up at her, a quill poised in his hand as he scribbled his signature across the bottom of the parchment. "Yes, of course."

Without asking, Hermione shut the door behind her. She took the seat across from him, smoothing her jeans as she laid the file on his desk. "I was able to get what you needed. He wasn't in that pub that night, and I have a witness who can confirm that."

"You're an angel, Granger." He uttered with a triumphant smile. Nott reached for the file, only to rip his fingers away as it burned him. "Or perhaps a demon."

"You're getting warmer." She smirked. "Really, I do have what you need, but there's something I need to discuss with you before giving you the name of the witness."

He levelled a long, dark stare at her. "Please don't tell me you came down here to plead for immunity for a witness who stood by."

She was almost offended. "No, I didn't. I have an informant in Knockturn Alley. Considering I need him to remain as my informant, he can only testify anonymously, directly to the Wizengamot. I'm sure you understand. This wouldn't be the first time the exception has been made."

Nott leaned back in his chair, and dragged a hand down his face. "I'll have it approved. We want to put Flint away. These are the little details."

Hermione glared at him. "Can you take care of the little details or not?"

"Yes." He almost sounded offended that she would ask.

She nodded toward the file. "Perfect. It won't burn you now. That's the owner of the pub. You'll find he keeps meticulous records of the magical signatures that enter his pub." Hermione rose from her seat. "Will that be all?"

His office was cosy, she noticed. There were two frames in the corner of his desk, faced away from her so only he could see them. The walls were bare, save for the certificates of his accomplishments, of which there were quite a few. But there was nothing that caught her eye at all.

Nott stood, holding his hand out. "Thank you. You didn't need to go so far out of your way, but I'm appreciative you did. Now if the rest of the Aurors in the DMLE could be like you, that would be a change in the right direction."

Hermione heard herself thank him for the compliment, but her eyes narrowed on the piece of parchment sticking out from the rubbish bin. The scrawl across it appeared to be familiar, and her stomach twisted. She couldn't be sure, not unless she got a better look at it. Grumbling inside her head, she made a split second decision to make herself look like an absolute fool.

She shook his hand, _conveniently_ tripping over a wrinkle in the carpet. "Oh, fuck," she muttered under her breath.

Nott chuckled lightly, extending a hand to help her off the floor. "Have you always been clumsy? I can't imagine it's a good trait to have if you're…"

She didn't listen as she picked herself off the floor, keeping her back to him as she pulled the letter from the bin and tucked it into her pocket. "No, I'm not normally clumsy." Hermione replied. "If there's anything else I can do to help, don't hesitate to let me know." She exited his office calmly, waiting until she was in a lift by herself before unfurling the paper.

It was a photograph of Theo stirring his coffee with wandless magic at his dining room table, likely taken that morning.

* * *

**I'll do my best to update next week! I have it over half way written, but now I have to write some action-y scenes, which is always my worst writing. Wish me luck, but comments are the best encouragement if you feel comfortable leaving one!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Yeah, this will probably be more than 15 chapters. I just know it. But yay, I made another weekly update and I've started the next! Also a cause for celebration is that **_**today**_ **(the fifth of October depending on where you're at) marks two years since I started writing fanfiction again. I'm pretty surprised I got this far so here's to the next. **

**I hope this next chapter is enjoyable. It ran a little long, so I had to cut it. **

* * *

Hermione stepped out from the shower, towel drying her hair before wrapping it inside the towel. With a second towel wrapped around her body, she left a trail of water as she exited the bathroom. A cold draft rolled through her flat, inducing a shiver down her spine.

A ministry owl sat at her bedroom window, stubbornly pecking away at the window pane. She snorted a laugh while hurrying across the room. He hopped to the other side of the windowsill, nipping her finger indignantly as she took the parcel from him. He was a rather large owl, and she shook her finger in front of his face. "If you bite me again, I won't give you any treats."

He glared at her.

Padding down the corridor, she pulled the string that held it closed away before tapping her wand to the seal so it would open. The scroll unfurled in her hands just as she removed the lid from the jar of treats sitting on her kitchen island. Hermione didn't limit the treats the large owl nicked, and he was content to eat as many as he could.

_Auror Granger, _

_As per your request—which I am forced to remind you once more that it goes against policy—we are delivering test results to your home address. The photographs and letters you've submitted have been determined to have no residual magic. I regret to inform you that there is nothing we can trace from them. As such, they have been returned to the DMLE's evidence locker, to be sorted, and catalogued. _

_Please don't hesitate to submit any new evidence as it becomes available. _

_Martha Nix_

_Department of Magical Forensics and Criminal Investigation_

"Goddammit!" Her fist came down on the counter hard, jarring the poor owl that had a treat halfway into his mouth. "Sorry, sorry!"

He squawked, his wings spanning open. He hurried to the nearest window, frantically knocking his beak against it, and Hermione opened the window with an amused smile. As he flew away, her smile slipped, and she was left with the news that she had absolutely nothing.

* * *

With nowhere else to go regarding evidence, Hermione made an appointment at St Mungos. She dressed casually in jeans, and a loose fitting blouse. Wearing her auror uniform would only draw attention, and unwanted questions. She wasn't sure where strangers got off on asking her if something was going on—alright, they were concerned for their wellbeing—or just what she was doing.

She rode the lift to the fourth floor, and made her way into the last office on the left without permission. True, she had an appointment within the hour, but it was on the other side of the building, and it was only for a check up.

And it wasn't with this particular healer.

Hermione sat in the large leather chair, sinking into it while kicking her feet up on the desk. Without fail, the door swung open within fifteen minutes.

"Granger?" Malfoy let the door click shut behind him, still staring at her. "I see you've made yourself at home."

She shrugged. "Have a seat. I need to talk to you about Nott." Hermione motioned to the seat in front of her, and his eyes comically shot open. "Fine." She sighed, raising and returning his seat. Taking the seat across from him while he eyed her curiously, she crossed one leg over the other. "I'm looking for anyone you know that might hold a grudge against him."

His demeanor changed with the sentence, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. "Right. I went through this with Potter, but he said he wasn't convinced it could be someone Theo knows personally."

Hermione bit her lip so she didn't directly contradict Harry, but she was fully convinced Nott must know his stalker quite well. "Right, Harry discussed that with me already. I'd like to revisit it though."

He raked his fingers through his hair, and sighed. "I can't think of anyone we know personally now that would want Theo dead. Fifteen years ago? I could have written a list for you."

She tapped her fingers silently against the underside of the desk. His anger was well hidden, but not buried down so far she couldn't hear it in his voice. "Maybe there's someone he's recently prosecuted?"

Malfoy shook his head. "One of our classmates recently broke the Statute of Secrecy. They had to Obliviate six muggles, and he blamed Theo for his two year trace and probation." He let out a weak chuckle. "That's it, Granger. There's not a chance in hell Marcus Flint is intelligent enough to do this. I have no idea who's doing this."

Hermione swallowed, and nodded. "If you think of anything, you'll let me know?"

He agreed instantly, picking up a pen and twirling it between his fingers. As she lingered, Malfoy asked, "Is there something else?"

"I was wondering if you've increased security on Malfoy Manor, or if the DMLE could assist in doing do."

He blinked. "You've seen the photograph with Scorpius in it, haven't you?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, it was one of the first I saw. I understand he's at Hogwarts, and it's not my intention to question you about your business."

A smirk curved his lips. "Yet here you are doing it anyway. Careful, Granger, I might think you care. Yes, I have increased security. I hired someone to do it, and no, I don't need the help of the DMLE." She was reminded of exactly who she was talking to as he scoffed.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad then. I'll be on my way. Please let me know if you think of anything." Hermione rested her hand on the doorknob.

"Granger," Malfoy stood from behind his desk. "Thank you for taking this case. It was me who requested you."

Hermione had known that already, but she was still surprised to hear him admit it so openly. "I'll find who it is." She promised.

* * *

A call to Theo's office derailed the rest of her day. Unsurprisingly, the man refused to stay in one spot. Hermione's shoulder brushed Neville as he held the door open for her.

Their brunette hostess seated then quickly, barely blinking when Hermione stated she'd like the booth closest to the center of the room. She left them with two menus after taking their drink orders, and Hermione sank into her seat.

The restaurant was near its occupancy limit for lunch, and it didn't make it any easier to keep her eyes on Nott.

He sat across from a white haired wizard who she recognised from the Wizengamot. His name escaped her, but she did realise the envelope Nott slid across the table, face down, was the one she'd given him days earlier. The restaurant was a dull roar around them, dozens of conversations bleeding into the other.

"I ordered your drink for you," Neville said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "She asked you twice, but you didn't respond. She either thinks you're a snob, or that you're interested in Nott now though, so…"

Hermione laughed. "Well, that's perfect."

Neville straightened in his seat, gazing over the table that separated them from the reason for the visit. "That's Greengrass," He murmured. "We went to school with his granddaughters."

She rested her cheek against her hand, drawing her lip between her teeth. "Astoria and Daphne, wasn't it?"

He nodded. "Astoria passed away a few years ago. I'm not sure you'd remember her, but she frequently visited the Ministry for her charities."

"Yes," Hermione cleared her throat. "She was always kind to me. Astoria invited Ron and I to a charity gala at Malfoy Manor. I told her I wasn't sure I could attend, but she didn't take no for an answer. However, when I arrived, I realised the drawing room of the manor had been completely removed."

"I didn't know that."

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione sighed. "Well, she asked me not to ever mention it, but you're trustworthy. Malfoy had it removed. It wasn't her idea."

His lips parted as their drinks were set in front of them. "That's—that's quite a character development." Neville spluttered. "Good on him." As their waitress stepped away without another word, he leaned forward, "Do you have any idea who's stalking him?"

It was the dreaded question. Harry asked it. Ron asked it when she slipped in through the Floo the week earlier for a dinner she didn't want to attend. "No," Hermione answered. "There's no way to trace the letters either. As much as I hate to say it, the only way I may get another lead is if he's sent something else."

It had been weighing on her mind since she received the letter, that there was nothing she could do. She wanted to dive in, to take care of this as quickly as possible so she could move on to other cases. Compared to cases assigned to her in the past, a stalker should have been easy.

Yet it wasn't, and she stitched together that Harry already knew that, and it was the reason he'd assigned it to her.

"Malfoy told me to look at Marcus Flint since he broke the Statute of Secrecy and Nott gave him probation with a trace. It was a dead end." She sipped her water, glaring over the rim at Nott's back. "He's not intelligent enough to do something like this. So, I have nothing."

Neville's eyes softened as he rested his arms on the table. "Come on, you're going to find whoever is behind this. You always do."

"Thanks. When is your last day?" The tension evaporated, at least for her, and she laughed when he dragged his fingers through his hair. "That bad? You'll be a great professor."

He chewed the inside of his cheek, a nasty habit formed during his time in the aurors. "I packed up my flat this week, and had everything sent to Hogwarts. My landlady wanted another month's rent even if I only stayed a couple days, so I'm staying at the Leaky until next week."

She nodded, humming at the appropriate points. "Are you anxious to start in the middle of term? How is Professor Sprout?"

"Poppy confined to bed rest at home and not allowed to leave. House Elves are still bringing her meals, and last I heard, one by the name of Tink walloped her with a ladle the last time she tried to tend to the garden."

Hermione choked. "A ladle?"

He chuckled. "Yes, it was made of wood, and she hadn't tried to leave the bed since. She was retiring at the end of the year anyway, and Kingsley wanted me to stay on until then, but," Neville shrugged. "What's that?" He lifted his chin.

There was a man watching Nott from several tables away, and he sat alone. Dressed in expensive dress robes that appeared to be tailored to him, his gaze shifted from Nott to her, and his face drained of colour.

She recognised him, possibly from a prior case, and he stood without ceremony and moved toward the back exit.

"Go," Hermione hissed, but Neville was already on his feet. The chair's legs screeched as she bolted, all but sprinting across the restaurant. "Nott!" Hermione barked, coming to a stop at his table. "I apologise for the interruption, but you're needed back at your office." She lied easily, her fingers wrapped around her wand in her right pocket in the case that he refused to move.

Dark eyebrows raising, Nott looking from her to the man sitting across from him. "Pardon? I'm needed, and they sent _you_?"

_Stunning him would be preferable to being forced to explain herself. _

"I'm here having lunch with a colleague." Hermione bit out, fingers relaxing. "I would prefer to not deliver any news to you, but here I am."

Nott rose to his feet, towering over her while eyeing her closely. "Did they say what they required of me?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've only overheard it." She replied, tapping her ear where her comm was. "I assume it involves one of your cases."

"Naturally." The word rolled off the tip of his tongue. Turning back to his companion, Hermione took it as her moment to leave them. Nott gripped her shoulder, his fingers digging into the skin beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. "Elphias, this is Auror Granger. Without her, we wouldn't have the information against Flint."

The man rose to shake her hand, and yellow teeth were revealed as he smiled. "Hermione Granger, you hardly need an introduction."

She shook his hand, snatching her hand back as he traced her knuckles. "Thank you, sir. I endeavor to do my duty as well as I can. If you'll excuse me—" Pulling away from Nott's grip with a heated glare shot his way, she excused herself once more. "Lovely to meet you."

Theo's gaze followed her through the restaurant as she weaved through the tables, hurrying in the direction where Neville had gone.

* * *

Hermione sat anxiously in the waiting room of St Mungos, standing as Harry came into view at the other end of the corridor. Meeting him halfway, she began an explanation before he could ask. "Neville and I followed Nott to lunch. While we were there, I noticed the suspect watching Nott. Immediately after noticing us, he took off, and Neville—"

Harry's eyes darkened. "I read all of it in your report. Detailed as ever, Hermione, but get to the fucking point."

"Neville is in critical care right now, but is assumed to make a full recovery. By the time I was in the alley, the suspect was gone, and Neville was slumped against the wall with an unknown vial beside him. I've tracked it to an apothecary in Knockturn Alley."

He nodded. "Good. What is it?"

"No name. It's been unknown to us until now. It's used to sever magical cores in multiple places. Healers say if I hadn't brought him when I had, that Neville would have died. They say it's fast acting." She stared at the fluorescent lights as Harry fell into a plastic chair, rubbing his temples. "They expect he will be able to leave in a few days, but the Head Healer suggested he retire earlier than planned."

He fidgeted, rubbing his beard. "Then I'll sign the papers tomorrow. Who's on Nott if you're here?"

She nudged the toe of her boot against his. "Boot is for now."

"Right then. Well, I have it handled from here. Stay on Nott from now on, and I'll handle breaking the news that you're to be with him 24/7 by the end of the day."

Making her way down the corridor, Hermione took shallow breaths to avoid the stench of antiseptic. Whether muggle or magical, hospitals were her least favourite place to be. Neville had been taken to the fourth floor, and admitted into critical care, which left her to find the lift. It appeared St Mungos had undergone several renovations while she'd been gone.

"Granger," Someone called out just before she turned a corner. Behind her, winded and his cheeks flushed, was Malfoy rushing toward her. "I called your name several times back there." He pointed over his shoulder, clearly out of breath.

Hermione pivoted from one foot to the other, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

He arched an eyebrow. "That's not reassuring. Aren't you supposed to be—"

"What do you want?" Hermione asked tightly, fisting her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "If you could make it quick, I need to get back to the Ministry to watch Nott."

Malfoy grabbed her by the elbow, steering her into a silent corner at the end of the corridor. Dimly lit, she watched him carefully look both ways before looking down at her. "Don't look at me like that. I'm a little paranoid lately. Can you blame me?"

It struck her that Malfoy probably wasn't as concerned for himself as he was Theo, or his son. There was an edge to his voice that hadn't been present in her previous meeting with him. "Is this about Scorpius?"

His face drained of colour and his features were pinched as he ran a hand down his face. "No," Malfoy answered in a harsh breath. "Though that's not making it any better. Just after you brought Longbottom in—which, narrow save, Granger—I received an owl from Theo. Apparently, he and Blaise are going for drinks tonight."

All at once, she wanted to throttle Nott. How could anyone remain so flippant while staring various threats in the face? "I assume you pointed out what a terrible idea that is?"

He winced. "Of course I bloody told him, but he doesn't listen. We'll be there at nine, and I think Aurors should be there."

The statement only heightened her irritation. She'd rather cause an incident in the Wizengamot, and cause Nott to be unable to leave at all. "Right then. Which pub is it?"

"The Leaky," he answered. "Some of the pictures that have already been sent were taken there."

She knew that.

Already, Hermione considered that if anything _were _to happen—and knowing the luck she'd had in past missions, it would—the Leaky Cauldron was a terrible place to be. There were so many exits: the front most obviously, the back, and various windows in the rooms. If Harry approved a last minute sting, and he would, they could erect anti-Apparition wards while Tom claimed it was for annual maintenance on the wards.

At least it was the start of a plan.

"Are you going to prevent it? There must be something—" Malfoy had already come to the conclusion that she believed he would. Tragically, he'd missed the mark by a wide margin.

She shook her head. "Meet them as you planned. I'll be there."

His eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline. "You can't be seriously considering using Theo as bait."

Hermione remained silent, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Look, Malfoy, not that I owe you an explanation for ongoing investigations—"

"He's my best friend—"

"Nott isn't taking this seriously to begin with. If we're lucky, we'll catch his stalker, and this will all be over." Hermione reasoned, holding her hands up in mock surrender as they were still tucked inside of her jacket. "At the worst, the stalker still shows up."

He spluttered. "At worst, they'll try to murder Theo."

She realised that, and Harry probably wouldn't like the risk no matter how calculated it was. "I'm not going to let any harm come to him. You requested me, so trust me."

Malfoy's nostrils flared and he raked his fingers through his hair. "I asked Potter for you because you get results."

Sighing, she stepped around him. "I do, and I will. That pub will be crawling with Aurors. You won't see us, but we'll be there."

He muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I _said_ fine." He growled. "And I won't tip Theo off."

Hermione nodded. "Sit somewhere open. Corners won't do; it's too difficult to get in and out if things escalate." She said it so matter of factly, and realised she should have stopped to think how grim it sounded.

* * *

She felt bad when she learned Ron and Lavender had been planning to go to dinner. Knowing how much the woman disliked her husband's job, Hermione told Ron he should stay with his wife. But his hovering head in the flames left no doubt, and he promised to meet her in the briefing room thirty minutes before he truly needed to.

It was a tradition she, Ron, and Harry had shared for years. It had mostly died out now, but she could remember being a wide-eyed Auror fresh out of training before life turned her into such a cynic.

_It was your marriage that did that, don't you think? _

Hermione leaned against the table anchored in the middle of the room. Balancing the heel of one boot on the toe of the other, she waited.

Ron burst into the room, the door slamming into the wall and when he observed the damage, there was a slight hole. "Shite, better fix that before Harry gets here."

With her arms folded over her chest, she watched as he repaired the plaster with a roll of his wrist and a tilt of his wand. "You'd think you would learn not to barge in here half-cocked anymore." Hermione mused, her lips curved into a half smile.

"Things wouldn't be the same if I did that." Ron laughed, bumping her shoulder as he stood beside her. "Do you think you could come by this weekend? Rose wants to see you."

She swallowed. "I don't think that will be a possibility. I'll be on Nott until this is over since Harry's informing him tonight. Boot will be happy to be back on his own case, I'm sure."

"Yeah, but," Ron trailed off. "We're going to catch this guy tonight, 'Mione." He was reaching with the hope that she'll come around more that she's home again, and Hermione's not ready to confront that truth.

"_If _we catch him, then sure." Hermione agreed. She'd never been able to resist the kids, any of them, but her conversation with Lavender lingered in the back of her mind about Rose's career hopes. "Have you talked to Rose about why she wants to be an Auror?"

He sniggered, his blue eyes bright. "I mentioned it over dinner last night. She wants to be just like Aunt Hermione is what she says."

It was flattering, Hermione thought. Without kids of her own, she'd wondered what it would be like to have someone so impressionable admire her, but had never expected it to happen. "That's sweet." Did it bother Lavender?

It was bad enough that her husband had been married to Hermione, but for her daughter to idolise her? They were adults, but Hermione wondered if it bothered Lavender.

It would bother her.

Harry entered the room, running his fingers through his hair that hadn't tamed with age. "Ginny asked me to tell you," he flicked his quill in Hermione's direction "that if you can 'take my husband for stakeouts, you can come for dinner.'"

"I was watching Nott." Hermione said smoothly, stepping up to the table as Harry rolled out the parchment. "I wanted to be close by in case anything happened."

"What was he doing?" Harry asked, and she couldn't tell if it was because he noticed her lie, or if it was his duty to know.

"Reviewing documents in the Wizengamot archives." She replied. Tapping her fingers against the edge of the parchment, she opted for changing the subject. "How's Neville?"

Harry's expression darkened, and he gripped the table's edge tightly. "He won't be joining us tonight, and I'm signing his discharge papers from the Aurors tomorrow morning."

It felt like the end of an era. Neville had been her partner off and on during the divorce, but before she convinced Robards she was better alone, no matter how against protocol it was. "He'll be missed." Hermione murmured. "I'll probably have to put off buying him a drink until he's healed."

"He wanted to be here." Harry smiled. "Do you want to lead this one?"

It wasn't important that she'd been gone for so long, not to her anyway, but clearly Harry still wanted to cause a fuss for her by passing an imaginary torch to her. "You can't possibly think I'd let _you_ lead." Hermione snarked.

"Oh, of course not. I'm only the Head Auror, but that's nothing."

Ron's knee bumped against hers. "Speaking of being Head Auror, how is my sister taking this?"

Opposite them, Harry grimaced and shook his head. "Not well, but she understands. Though she might be a little more understanding tomorrow."

She huffed. "Neither of you have to be here. You should be home with your wives—"

Ron cut her off, and she hated it just as much as she had when they were married a hundred years ago. "We want to be here with you. It's your first assignment back in England, we're going to be with you for it."

"That's sentimental nonsense." Hermione muttered, pulling the semantics toward her. Tracing over the entrance to the pub, she glanced up at them both. "It doesn't matter if it's my first. There's going to be plenty more."

From the corner of her eyes, she caught the two of them sharing an uneasy look, but Aurors began to file into the room before either could say anything.

They gathered around the table, and Harry gave a small nod.

Tapping her wand against the blueprints, it surged up into a three dimensional diagram. "Recently there have been several threats placed against Theodore Nott. While tailing him today, there was an attack on his life via poison. While Auror Longbottom and I prevented it, he pursued the attacker and is now in critical care. There's reason to believe that Nott may be attacked tonight while having drinks in the Leaky Cauldron."

Hermione flipped the glowing frame around, swiping a finger through the front entrance. "Boot, I need you on the entrance. You should be identifying anyone who comes through. Rogers, you're paired with Bones. The two of you are going to be on the bar right here." With a pinch of her fingers, she zoomed in. "The most important part of tonight is observation. It's suspect whether there's going to be an attack, but I believe whoever is behind today's attack will be there."

She swallowed tightly, meeting Harry's eyes from across the table. "Potter and Weasley are going to cover the second floor—"

Unsurprisingly, Ron couldn't control his outburst. "Hermione,"

She pinned him with a fierce glare. "Potter and Weasley will cover the second floor." Hermione repeated, and he didn't question her.

* * *

There were more Aurors in the Leaky than the ones in the briefing. All glamoured, and their uniforms transfigured into clothes that would go unnoticed, Hermione could still pick them out even though it took a handful of moments.

Boot was on the door, and there was a blonde undercover at his side, whispering in his ear while running a nail down his chest. Rogers and Bones remained on the opposite side of the bar.

Susan brushed the curtain of hair from her hair, and the slight motion of her thumb went unnoticed by anyone around her. "Eyes on Nott." Her voice came through over the static.

"Nothing on the second floor, but I think someone's running a brothel out of here." Ron muttered darkly. In the background, everyone can hear Harry chastising him.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She sat nearby to Nott's table, with a clear view of the front of his face. Malfoy kept glancing around the pub nervously, anxiety written across his face. Nott nudged him, sliding a tumbler of firewhisky toward him.

The waitress was a pretty brunette with a low cut top that probably earned her more tips than she'd make otherwise. Zabini continually waved at the waitress, sliding money into her pocket each time she did.

Hermione was certain the woman was going to make what she usually made in a month in one night if the wizard kept it up.

There were systematic check-ins from each Auror, but nothing came of them until it was near midnight.

Ron's voice was calm, but there was a note in it that was unmistakable. "There's a cracked window on the second floor, and it wasn't cracked ten minutes ago."

"Shite." Hermione whispered, cupping her hand over the comm nestled in her ear. "There's no one down here. The waitress is bring drinks again, but she's the only one who's interacted with Nott." Careful to go unnoticed, Hermione leaned her head back slightly.

The blonde sloshed water onto Nott, and she didn't shout an apology. Gone was her exuberant personality. _She could be exhausted, it's a weekend_. Hermione looked closer, the tiniest shred of panic welling up.

She pressed her finger to the comm, her hand disappearing under red hair that didn't belong to her. "The waitress is under the _imperious._"

Bones hopped off her barstool first.

Hermione followed suit, approaching the waitress. Out of her peripheral, she could see Ron and Harry coming down the stairs. Pretending to bump into her, Hermione held her wand beneath her jacket, and murmured, "_Finite Incantatem." _

The woman stumbled into her, gasping for breath.

"Who?" Hermione snapped. "Can you remember who cursed you?"

She shook her head, and Malfoy's shoulders stiffened as he realised just what was going on.

Nott paid her little mind, though he noticed her. He just chose to ignore her as he raised his drink to his lips.

Hermione's hand shot out, and it sailed through the air. "You really have no sense of self preservation, do you?" The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she pushed the waitress forward. "Wait for me at the counter."

"Did you catch him?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione didn't answer him as she followed the waitress. There was someone in the pub, no mistake about that, and their best way to discover _who_ was the woman he'd cursed. But the young woman was already shaking, her arms wrapped tightly around her, and Hermione wasn't sure she'd be able to remember anything noteworthy.

"Hello," Hermione said carefully as Tom's glare burned a hole in her. "Can you tell me anything about what happened?"

She gnawed at her nails, shaking her head. "I was filling drinks for that table, and then I poured a bottle into that man's drink. I remember my actions, but not who."

"That's perfectly normal." Hermione said gently. "You're in shock, and I hate to ask this of you, but time is—" She swallowed as the woman before her flinched. "Might I see your memories? You'll only feel a slight pressure, no pain."

"Granger, he's on Nott." Boot's voice bled through the comm. "The wizard walking toward him: Dark hair, mustache—"

The ground shifted under her as she shifted her weight, hair whipping in her face. On the other side of Nott's table, Harry and Ron were preparing to detain the wizard, but he raised his wand.

Directly at Nott.

Malfoy yelled, throwing an arm over Theo to pull him down, and Hermione tightened her fingers around her wand.

The familiar crack of Apparition rocked the building in such a large space. She landed in front of Nott just as the spell shot toward him.

Her glamour shattered, leaving her in uniform, and her hair tied back.

And just as their uniforms were designed, the spell ricocheted before ultimately colliding with the original caster.

A thin crimson line formed at his throat, stretched across his throat, and blood spurted from the artery before he crashed to the floor. Screaming erupted inside the pub, and its patrons rushed for the door.

There was the tell tale sound of a chair screeching behind her, and Hermione shoved Nott back into his chair before he could climb to his feet. Her features contorted in anger, she snarled, "Do you have any idea how fucking hard keeping you alive is?"

He opened his mouth.

"No," She answered. "You truly don't. Have a seat, Nott. You're not leaving my sight for the foreseeable future."

Harry came to stand in front of her, dispelling his glamour as every other Auror did. "You want to, uh, take over that," he motioned to the body "while I explain?"

She shot one last glare at Nott before stepping over the body.

* * *

**The next chapter picks up immediately where this one ends and there is quite a bit of snarkiness between Theo and Hermione. Sorry we haven't gotten to all the Theo/Hermione interactions without others allowed, but I had some setup to lay. But she's living in Nott Manor next chapter, so make of that what you will. Feedback is the best encouragement, so if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think. **

**Till next week! (she says hopefully.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Big thank you to the commenters last chapters who told me I had forgotten to fix my placeholders. I may not make the next weekly update, but I'm currently home sick until Monday with HFMD, so we might get lucky. **

**Warning: there is talk of infertility at the very end of this chapter, and Theo is a jerk. If this is a trigger for you, I would skip all the way down from when Theo asks her "Why did you divorce?" and then read the last two lines. **

* * *

Tom was yelling, his voice shooting up several octaves as he took in the damage that had been done to the Leaky. Which, as Hermione considered it, wasn't very much. No one near the usual when it came to something as dangerous as this.

Which really, if anyone asked her, Hermione thought it was rather anti-climatic. It had been a series of seconds strung together by panic lodging into her throat while Nott had been on the other end of a wand, but as the panic began to vanish—at least for her—the situation wasn't as dire as she had anticipated.

"There's a dead man on my floor!" Tom howled, his wrinkles becoming more pronounced as he waved his arms around. "You," he stuck a finger into Harry's chest, and Harry caught his wrist, "said it was just for observing—"

"And it was," Harry bobbed his head, looking completely bored when Hermione looked at him. "Right up until someone tried to murder a wizard under Auror protection."

"Auror protection my fucking arse!" Nott snapped, shooting a glare across the pub at her. "And _you_,"

The corner of her mouth quirked, curving her lips into a lopsided smirk. "If you step any closer, I'll cuff you for interfering with a crime scene," Hermione said pointedly, tilting her head toward Harry. "Talk to him about it."

Draco raked his fingers through his face. "Theo, this is ridiculous. You needed to report these threats, and all this has done is prove it. Let them do their job."

"That's the first sensible said I've ever heard you say." Hermione drawled, crouching down. Using the end of her wand, she lifted the man's jacket, levitating his wallet from inside it.

"Fuck you, Granger—" Nott began.

Ron cleared his throat, his arms folded across his broad chest while he looked from Nott to her. "I forgot how much you two snap at each other."

_If he didn't make it so easy,_ Hermione thought, but she kept it to herself. "If Draco hadn't reported this, you would probably be dead right now." She said as the door to the pub slammed shut and Tom carried on his tirade outside. "In fact, you would have been dead this afternoon, or possibly even before that. Honestly, it's a miracle that you were still alive by the time—"

Nott's nostrils flared, and he shifted his weight, shoving his hands into his pockets as he levelled a glare at Malfoy. "You had no right to intervene in my own business. Fuck, how do you even know about it?"

Hermione flipped open the bi-fold wallet with a minor flick of her wand. Nestled inside, behind a clear pocket, was identification from the French consulate. Hermione pressed a finger to her ear, resting her elbow across her knee as she swallowed. "Could you check a name for me? Gabriel Alexandre."

Marissa's voice was void of static, clear sounding from a carefully cast _Sonorous _on all of their equipment—and it only fucked up when there were so many Aurors in close proximity to one another. "He's from France, but I assume you knew that already."

"Mmm," Hermione pursed her lips together.

"He's wanted for two assassinations in Paris, one in Prague, three in England over the last twenty years, and there's a whole list of what they think he _might_ have been involved in. Shite, one of them is the bombing at the embassy last year."

Her ears rang, the sound sharp and centred in her head, as she remembered just what that day had been like. Harry hadn't wanted to send her, citing that he could be her boss while still being her friend, but he had.

And it had been catastrophic.

Hermione brushed her nose, easing an itch, and she nodded to no one in particular. "A hit wizard, then. Makes sense. You'll keep digging?"

"Aye, aye," The words came out wrong with a British accent that was masked by one of a pirate. Or, what Marissa thought pirates sounded like. "I'll ring you with anything I find."

Nott and Malfoy were still arguing, and it reminded her of two children.

"If he hadn't gone to Harry, you would be dead right now," Hermione said flatly. "You're not untouchable, not even close, so why do you insist on pretending you are?"

He turned toward her, towering over her as she closed the gap between them in two strides. "In the Archives, you were following me, weren't you?"

"Been following you for a few weeks, thanks for noticing," Hermione replied. "The day I tripped in your office? I'm not at all clumsy. There was a threat in your rubbish bin, saying how they'd bleed you dry in your shower."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Clearly I have no choice in this matter." Nott spat.

She'd never wanted to strike someone more.

* * *

Malfoy and Zabini didn't join them, or it was more apt to say they weren't allowed to Apparate into Nott Manor. It was already teeming with bodies, all of them either scouring the wards for faults or reinforcing them.

The second her feet met the speckled linoleum, Nott started in before she could take a breath. "This is mental. No one can enter my wards beyond myself, and before you ask, _yes_ my house elves are loyal only to me."

It was false since one had gone directly to Malfoy, but Hermione kept her mouth shut. It could come in handy later, she supposed. "What of your father? Is it possible he could allow someone into your wards given the chance?"

"He's locked up in Azkaban," Nott sneered. "What the fuck do you mean _given the chance_. They're not going to allow him a quill and a jar of ink."

She gripped her fingers tightly behind her back, rocking back on her heels. "Yes, of course. I must have forgotten that it's absolutely impossible to not order an attack on another's life while incarcerated. There's never been—oh, _wait,_" Hermione hissed, enjoying the way his fingers tightened around the back of the sofa. "There was a case just like that. You eviscerated his defence, and exposed a multi-level hierarchy comprised of Azkaban guards!"

"Thank you for the compliment. I had no idea you kept such close tabs on me."

Harry shook his head and put his hands up. "I'm going to see the wards for myself."

Ron stayed solidly in place, fixed to the point in the floor just two steps to the right of her, and his hand was on his wand as if she was going to hex Nott.

She wouldn't, but Merlin did he make her blood fucking boil. "It's my bloody job to keep close tabs on you," Hermione growled, and she regretted the words the moment they flew out of her mouth.

His eyebrows lifted, and smugness was written across his face. "Oh? Was it your _job_ last November to stay up to date with my cases?"

Her wand was going to snap under her grip. "I was confined to bed rest, and your fucking face was splashed across every edition of the Daily Prophet that I was brought." She didn't let the subject remain for long, not willing to revisit what had landed her in St Mungos for a second longer than she had to. "Are you always this irritating? No wonder someone wants to murder you!"

His eyes widen, and Nott takes a menacing step. "Are you always this much of a bitch? It's no wonder that so many have tried to murder _you!_" It was a step too far, and Ron slid between them. "Shite, Granger—" Nott started.

"Enough," Ron's voice cut through whatever he'd been about to say. "'Mione, I think you should take a walk."

She caught sight of Nott, and his dark eyes softening as she left before his apology could slip free.

* * *

Hermione bumped into Harry immediately after leaving Nott. Dark eyebrows lifted as well as his chin in the direction from where she'd come. "What was that yelling?"

She shook her head. "I'm sure you heard every last word, so why are you asking me?" It was a rude reply, juvenile if she was honest about it, but the fact of the matter was that she didn't want to talk about it. And she didn't have to. All she was here to do was a job, and that she could do whether Nott wanted to be protected or not.

Harry fell into step beside her as they continued down the corridor. "Is there any particular reason you dislike Nott?"

"I don't dislike him." She muttered, pulling her jacket tightly around herself as a draft rolled past them.

Harry swallowed a strangled sound, and it sounded suspiciously like disbelief.

"It has nothing to do with Hogwarts, Gryffindor, or Slytherin if that's what you're asking. Surely you've noticed that he's just an arse?"

"Well," Harry clicked his tongue. "The two of you seem to always butt head when you cross paths. There must be some sort of reason for that, right?"

She snorted as they passed a pair of Aurors overlooking the study. "I don't know what you're expecting me to tell you, Harry. There's nothing to tell. Honestly, I think he just annoys the shite out of me, and I invoke the same reaction from him. Not to mention the fact that it's clear he wants nothing to do with Auror protection, and it's been a long night. Not even an hour ago, a hit wizard attempted to murder him."

Harry shuffled his feet, the toe of his booth meeting a crack in the stone as he sighed. "I knew you'd just let it go, but at least try to come to some sort of middle ground so I know you're not going to constantly fight." He shoved his hands into his pockets as they made a large loop around the manor. "If it's too much, I'll reassign you, despite Malfoy's request."

The moon was high overhead, suspended in the sky as she leaned against a window. Rolling her eyes, Hermione shook her head. "That won't be necessary. Thanks for the concern though." She bumped her shoulder against his. "When do you think they'll finish?"

"An hour, maybe," Harry guessed. "We've got time to go by your flat and pick up your things if you like? Otherwise, it'll be me or Ron—"

"Say no more." Hermione held up a hand. "The two of you will never bring me the correct bags."

* * *

Scanning, analysing, and resetting the wards took ninety minutes. Which was an impressive time just by the sheer size of Nott Manor, but Hermione couldn't be happier to see everyone leave.

Having changed into jeans while at her flat, and a jumper that she'd pulled over her head in a hurry, the events at the Leaky felt as if they couldn't have been tonight. But with her wand fitted firmly against her forearm in its holster, she was reminded that it had only been a few short hours.

Someone would be performing the autopsy now—which was both similar and different from the muggle way—and the results would arrive in the morning. It was a long time to wait for the fact that would finally take away at least part of her uneasiness. At the moment, all she wanted to do was crawl into a bed, or a sofa. She would even settle for the floor at this point as her eyes threatened to close.

"I'll have the report sent here in the morning," Harry said, his voice sounding far away rather than right beside her.

She nodded. As they neared the sitting room, Hermione's arm shot out, bumping against Harry's chest. "Do you hear that?"

Unsurprisingly, it seemed that Nott and Ron hadn't got along after she left either. "Fucking left her and married a tart you dated in Hogwarts," Nott slurred.

"Shite," Hermione hissed, casting a warning glance at Harry. "He's goading him, probably has been since we left."

There was no response from Ron, but she peeked her head around the corner and saw his fingers were curled dangerously around his wand. He wouldn't do anything, but he looked sorely tempted.

"No one ever said why the Granger-Weasley marriage never worked out." Nott took a long drink from the bottle of Ogdens sitting in front of him. "Why is that?"

"It's none of your fucking business, Nott. You're a rotten drunk." Ron hissed, but there was no mistaking the regret that flashed across his face.

Her heart clenched, and Hermione swept into the room before Nott could breathe another word. "You can go home, Ron. Give Lavender and the kids my love." She glared at Nott from over Ron's shoulder as he wrapped her in a one-armed hug. "Tell Rose I'm sorry I can't make it this weekend too."

"'Mione, if you heard," Ron started.

She patted him on the back. "Like I said, given Lavender and the kids my love." Hermione shifted her weight, giving a clipped nod in Harry's direction as they disappeared through the entryway. Seconds later, the Floo sounded, covering the sound of their whispers, and she turned on Nott. "Do you need any help getting to bed, or can I assume you're not completely useless?"

It wasn't exactly the model of finding a common ground, like Harry had said, but she didn't think Nott was going to remember this come morning.

"Fuck you."

Kneeling down in front of him, her eyes hard, Hermione's gaze didn't soften. "I'm going to tell you something, and if it's quite alright, I'd like to only say it once. Don't harass Ron about our marriage. It's been over a decade, and truly, it's none of your business. Now, I'd like to remind you that I'm your bodyguard until your stalker is arrested. I'm not the person you want to be enemies with."

He glanced at her, eyes darkening. "I don't need to be babysat."

She snorted. "You're not exactly leading me to believe that right now, but the point is that I'm going to be here for the foreseeable future, and we'll be better off if we can get along."

Nott opened his mouth to say something, and Hermione barely registered the awful retching sound before he vomited over her shoes.

"Don't need a babysitter, my fucking arse," Hermione growled as she threw his arm over her shoulder, and supported his weight. "You might be more work than your worth."

"Better let me die then," Nott muttered, leaning into her.

* * *

Hermione woke before the sun met the horizon, and rubbed her eyes as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It would be an hour before either of them needed to be at the Ministry. Dragging her fingers through her tangled hair, her fingers got stuck halfway and she sighed. It had been a short five hours of sleep by the time she'd finally been able to close her eyes. Tossing and turning, the only thing that would have helped her was a dose of Dreamless Sleep.

She took a short shower in the bathroom attached to her bedroom, lingering under the hot spray of water that ran down her body. Recounting the events from the night before, she scrubbed her hands just a bit longer than normal, as if there was still blood on them. In reality, it had only been a few drops, but there was something about knowing it had been there at all that sent a chill down her spine.

There was a clatter from downstairs, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She froze, fingers closing around the shower knob before she could even _think_.

There was a faint _pop!_ From outside the shower, similar to Apparition, but not nearly loud enough to be a witch or wizard. "Please do not be opening the shower curtain, Miss Granger." Topsy's voice made Hermione sigh in relief. "Master Nott wants me to tell you that there's no one downstairs. He thinks you'll worry."

_Well, he isn't wrong. _

"Thank you, Topsy."

"He also says to be finishing your shower."

Before Hermione could ask if that was all, there was a sound signalling Topsy's departure, and Hermione quickly rinsed.

Dressing out of uniform since she wasn't to draw attention, though it would eventually get out anyway, Hermione settled on a worn jumper that had seen her through the years. Tugging her jeans to her waist, she stepped into her boots, and laced them by pointing her wand toward her feet.

She found Nott in the dining room, sitting at the head of an extremely long table with a file opened in front of him.

"You can sit here, if you like." He called without looking up, and he pointed to the seat at his right with his quill. Drops of ink landed across the heading of the parchment, and he vanished it with a muted curse. "Topsy brought you coffee. Though I'm not sure why you'd prefer it over tea," he muttered under his breath.

Sliding into her seat, she slid her fingers through the handle and lifted it to her lips. "Did you take the Hangover Potion I asked Topsy to leave?"

His head jerked up, and he dragged a line straight through whatever he'd been signing. "Fuck," Nott swore before he glanced up at her. "You told her to leave that out for me?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head.

"Do you happen to remember the part where you threw up all over my shoes?" Hermione hedged, hiding her smirk behind her cup as her lips twitched.

"I most certainly do not." He replied.

She sniggered. "Well, you did, and then I carried you all the way to the loo where Topsy took over. Any sign of a hangover?"

"No." There was a pause before he opened his mouth once more. "Thank you for that. If it had been left to her, I suspect she would have made me suffer the consequences of my decisions."

"Can't say I disagree with that logic." Hermione mused. She sank back into her chair, content to sip the coffee in her hand that had been brewed just how she liked it, without even a hint of sugar.

He scribbled his signature across sets of documents, his brow furrowing as he did. "They're arresting Marcus Flint today. It took them long enough." Nott didn't look at her, but she seized the shred of civility.

"That's good news. You'll see him in court, I presume?"

His shoulders tensed, but it was only by a fraction. No one else would have noticed it. "He may plead out, but I hope he doesn't." The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Yeah," Hermione laughed, "that sounds about right."

* * *

A DMLE intern hurried up to her as they crossed the atrium, her face flushed red as she thrust a document into Hermione's hands. "From Head Auror Potter," she explained in a rush, her heels clicking against the tile as she followed Hermione. "He said he'll be stopping by later today as well. Is there anything I need to pass along to him?"

Tucking the file beneath her arm, blowing on her coffee—Topsy had brewed her a cup to go and had apparently also picked up styrofoam cups to go with it—Hermione nodded. "Yeah, you could tell him to mind his own business. I can handle my own cases."

The intern's face drained of colour. "I—the Head Auror—that's not very—"

Nott chuckled, and a piece of his prickish demeanour fell away.

Hermione smiled. "He won't be angry if you pass that along. Believe me, he's expecting it."

Shaking her head, the young girl said tightly, "I'll just tell him you didn't have a message." She muttered something under her breath before hurrying away from them.

"Are you normally that abrasive when it comes to Potter?" Nott asked. "Granger?"

She swallowed hard. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk to about it." Hermione murmured as they stepped into a private lift. "Personal things, you understand, I'm sure."

He pressed the button, the arm of his robes brushing against her arm. His nod was clipped, and she crossed her arms over her chest as the lift began a rickety descent. "I've got a full day, so if you could stay out of the way—"

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't my first time protecting someone with a busy life. I understand. I won't interrupt your conversations, or any part of your day unless it means saving your life."

When he looked at her, it was in disdain from the corner of his eye. "I'll have you know that I wasn't ignoring the threats because I believe I'm infallible. I hired a private investigator. Involving the DMLE—"

Looking up without malice, her eyes met his. Dark and narrowed, she imagined what it must be like to be on the other side of a courtroom with him. Only this wasn't a courtroom, and he wasn't over her. "Yeah?" She breathed. "Fire them because they're apparently fucking useless. Look, I get it. You don't want to be protected. It looks bad, doesn't it?"

The lift came to a sudden stop, and it threw her off her feet, crashing into him. Nott's fingers wrapped around the tops of her arms and his left hand shot out, fingers dragging through the air to catch her coffee with a levitation charm before it splashed over them.

Disentangling herself, Hermione righted her jacket. "Well, this isn't our floor."

Surprisingly, he refrained from whatever sarcastic comment that had been on the tip of his tongue. "It does this several times a week It'll fix itself. Hold onto that railing though because it's going to send you sideways again."

The railing was cool as she wrapped her fingers around it. "For curiosity's sake, why didn't you come to the DMLE?"

He sighed. "I used to report every threat I got, which there were several. Still are, obviously, but at a certain point it's just a drain on resources."

"They're there for your use, just like any other employee."

Nott ran his fingers along his chin, over the slight stubble. There was a cut on the right side of his face, and he winced as he grazed it. "This has happened before. Last year, there was a stalker that sent all kinds of threats, and no, this isn't the work of the same person. He's in Azkaban now. Point is, while there were Aurors protecting me, the Prophet ran an article dragging me through the mud."

It sounded familiar, and the words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. "It was around the same time the French Embassy was bombed, wasn't it?"

It didn't matter when it had happened, she told herself, and she regretted the words the second they left her.

"Yes." He answered. "When it started again, I didn't report it. I hired a team, but I realise it was the wrong decision now."

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears, nodding. "I'm serious about firing them. They should even give you a refund."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I'll be sure to do that. Look," he waved his hand as the lift jerked, "told you so."

"I'll bet that's your favourite phrase."

Nott's laugh surprised her. It was loud and brash, nothing like what she expected.

As they stepped off the lift, she thought it was a nice turn that he was being polite, even though she knew it was too much to hope for it to last.

She was right.

* * *

Between him preparing for his own cases on the other side of his desk, Hermione had commandeered half of his spacious desk for herself. By the time she'd asked ten questions—_of course, she'd counted, it was good to know how long it took for one to snap—_Nott shot back one of his own.

"Why did you divorce?" Gone was his previously polite tone, now replaced with an air of cruelty.

Hermione calmly laid her quill down, her eyes sharpening, but he didn't wither below her gaze. "Didn't you already go over this with Ron?"

"He wouldn't tell me," Theo said. He shuffled papers and refused to meet her eye.

"I imagine not." Hermione drawled, flipping pages of a previous case of his. "He probably hasn't forgotten the verbal lashing Molly gave him when he blamed me for our divorce." And it had been a particularly brutal fight, Hermione remembered. With the hurt still fresh, the feeling of _failure_, and their emotions rubbed raw, Ron had lashed out.

He cleared his throat. "Granger, you're going through my entire life, from my work to who I've shagged." It wasn't why he was asking, and they both knew it, but she didn't point out his attempts to cover his mistake.

She sighed. She didn't owe him an explanation, and the less people knew about her, the better was how Hermione felt. Arguing with him was exhausting, however, and she figured telling him the truth would take less time than getting him to leave it alone would. "I couldn't get pregnant."

He fell silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "What? I'm sure you just needed—"

"Yes, Theo, please tell me how to get pregnant. Clearly I have no idea how to do it on my own." Hermione snapped, real anger finally seeping into her voice as she slammed the case down. "That's just what I need, someone to tell me how to do what I'm meant to be able to do as a woman." The last bit, the fury that laced through each word wasn't truly targeted at him.

It had just been a long time since she'd opened that part of her life.

He backpedalled quicker than Ron had that day in the Burrow. "What I mean to say is that there is a world class—"

"I'm aware of the fertility clinic. I've visited. Thank you again for the attempted advice. During the visit, they determined that I was unable to conceive due to my torture during the war. There are some things a relationship cannot overcome. Children are one of them. Following the divorce, they created a serum that negates the effects of _crucio_, save for when you've already lost your mind." Hermione said it all in one breath, bordering on wheezing at the end as her fingers shook.

As did the parchment in her hands when she picked it up. The heavy crinkling filled the air.

He was silent.

"What is it?" Hermione hissed scathingly. "You were looking for something to get under my skin with, weren't you? Congratulations, Nott, you've succeeded yet again." She dropped her eyes back to the case, but found that she wasn't done. "Say whatever you like to me, but I'm dedicated to my job, and nothing you say will make me stop protecting you if that's your aim."

"Wait, no." He started. "I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything, eager to return to what she hoped was a habit of the two of them not speaking until it was necessary.

"Hermione," he swallowed her name as if it burned. "I'm so fucking sorry."

Later, when they returned to his office after a court session, there was a cup of coffee and Honeydukes chocolate.

Her favourite.

* * *

**It's **_**really **_**fun to see who readers guess the stalker is. I also want to say that I think this story may honestly be my best writing yet, and I'm enjoying it. So, thank you for enjoying it too because that makes it even better to write. Please let me know what you thought if you feel comfortable, or even visit my ask box on tumblr at mrsren96. **

**Thanks for reading! I'll do my best to see you next week with a new update. **


	5. Chapter 5

**I didn't mean to go a month between updates, but I'm so relieved to finish this. It's really my favorite piece of something I've written in a while. **

* * *

Nott Manor was large enough for them to avoid each other, which Hermione was content to do. However, that wasn't what she'd been assigned to do, and whether Nott liked it or not, she was going to stick to him. Even as he muttered how unlikely for him to be ambushed at home.

_I'll bleed you in your shower. _

Hermione didn't mention the threat, though he very well knew that she'd already seen it. All that mattered was that whoever was stalking him—whether it was through their own hand, or by a hired hand—had been close to Nott Manor.

Close enough to photograph Theo as he stepped out of his shower.

He warned her off of the west wing of the manor, citing that the portraits on that end weren't friendly. Later, he admitted that even with curse breakers sweeping through the manor over a decade ago, he still wasn't confident that the wing that had formerly belonged to his father was safe.

"At the least, I should search it." Hermione voiced the concern over breakfast as she lifted her coffee cup. "I know you don't believe your father could have anything to do with your stalker, but I'd feel better if I could—"

He sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. She'd only seen him wear them around the manor, and in the latest hours of the night while they were in his office. "If you want to, be my guest, but I'm not going to help you."

She suspected there was another reason why he didn't want to visit that wing of the manor but swallowed those words. "That's fine. I'm sure I won't be long."

He nodded, plucking his glasses from his face. "Well, you'll need to do it later. I have an early meeting to prepare a witness."

Before she can ask what he needed to prepare them for—and ultimately be informed that it was none of her business—Theo stood, nodding toward the Floo. "Is it something that can wait twenty minutes?"

Rolling his eyes, Nott shook his head. "The manor will still be here at the end of the day, but my witness has the habit of getting cold feet, and leaving. So," he motioned toward the fireplace with a dramatic wave of his hand, "we're going, _now."_

* * *

She missed her office in the DMLE. Nott's was consistently cold, and no matter how politely she complained, he sneered that she ought to bring a jacket with her then. Or, her personal favourite, "_You're a witch, aren't you? Cast a warming charm." _

Which was followed with a snarky rebuttal of, "_Why would I use my magic on that when I could remove that stick from up your—" _

Theo Nott caused her to act like a rash, teenage version of herself. He rubbed her the wrong way in nearly every way, some of them seemingly just to spite her. "_I thought you preferred sugar in your coffee." _or "_I didn't tell you? I could have _sworn _I told you that I'd scheduled a last second meeting." _

It was tempting to put an Auror on him so she could escape from the lowest level of the Ministry during the day, even if just for a few hours. But he expected it, and they were standing on either side of this, waiting for the other to blink.

Well, it wouldn't be her.

Sipping her replacement cup of coffee that a helpful intern had volunteered to fetch for her, Hermione sat in the corner of Nott's office. She crossed her ankles, skimming the highlights of a case file flipped open in her lap. "This case," she began. "You prosecuted a case against this non-profit, the—"

His fingers tightened around his quill. "The Relief Fund for War Victims? Yes, I did, and I'll tell you what I tell anyone else. The name is absurdly unoriginal. They couldn't even come up with a catchy acronym." Nott flicked his wand, and two feet of parchment rolled itself into a tight scroll before zipping out of the room through an open crack in the door.

"They threatened you." Hermione deadpanned. She stood from her seat, closing the gap between her chair and his desk. "Quite a few times, actually. All of them were crude, but the language is similar to a threat you've received."

He ripped his glasses off his face and glared at her. "Granger, I'm busy. It's not those twats. Listen to me." The end of his quill brushed her nose as he shook it irritatingly in her face. "Your Aurors have already combed through this. More than once might I add. Now, I have things to do, so if you could—"

She braced her hands on his desk, eyes narrowing. "Wave that in my face one more time and I'll snap it. This threat," She pushed it toward him, dragging her index finger across the surface of it. "They say they're going to bleed you."

He rolled his eyes. "So I can see how pure my blood really is. Yes, I—"

"There's a threat from your stalker that says he'll bleed you in your shower. That doesn't mean anything to you?"

"All it means to me is that these cretins have no imagination."

"You're impossible!" She seethed.

Nott stood from his seat, towering over her and shook his head. "The only thing I am is late. Get your things, Granger. We're due in court." Rounding his desk, he peered down at her. "In case it wasn't clear, I'm serious.."

Hermione wanted to throttle him, but that was nothing new. Frowning, Hermione began, "I could stay here. There's an Auror down the corridor, and it's a short walk. Surely even _you_ can avoid being murdered in three minutes."

He snorted. "I'm not leaving you in my office alone. You're a terrible snoop."

"Is there anything you're trying to keep me from seeing?"

"Oh, yes." He rolled his eyes, muttering sarcastically. "Out, Granger or I'll drag you out myself."

The corner of her lip twitched. She'd like to see him try. "Fine. What is this case?" Hermione clutched her files close to her chest. The door closed behind them with a faint click of the lock.

Nott pressed the end of his wand to the lock, a sliver of blue seeping into the crevice. "It's an open and shut case. We'll be out by lunch."

Blowing out a harsh breath, Hermione's bangs lifted with the motion. "You do realise that's not what I asked, don't you?"

He walked ahead of her, but she caught a glimpse of the smirk on his face. "You do realise that I'm a lawyer, don't you? I never answer questions directly."

* * *

Hermione meant to focus on the stack of past convictions so she could make headway into the day, but it went tits up the moment Nott rose from his seat. Hermione sat behind him, her eyes bright with curiosity as he rounded the table, dragging his fingers against the smooth wood.

She'd heard all about him over the years, and their paths had crossed on occasion. He might have stopped into the DMLE to demand something of another Auror, or she had visited the bottom level of the Ministry to put pressure on a trial. Neither of those was meant to happen by the mandated policy, but they were more alike than she wanted to admit.

The defence lawyer—Smith was his last name, and Hermione was certain she'd never seen him before—was red in the face well before the case was underway. Smith represented an ex-Death Eater sympathiser.

"—_not a Death Eater—"_

Theo's eyes sharpened, and Hermione closed the file in her lap. "Is that to say he's innocent because he wasn't a Death Eater? During a routine inspection by the DMLE, there were dark artifacts found in your client's possession. Not only that," Theo snapped, his voice hardening.

Hermione swore she didn't lean forward, but she did, and he caught it. Crossing one leg over the other, Hermione rested her hand in her palm while her elbow was braced against her knee.

"There was a journal found filled with deranged fantasies."

At the head of the room, the Chief Warlock shifted in his seat.

Smith's face drained of colour. "There's no—"

But testing had confirmed that the journal _did_ belong to the man. She'd heard of there being another member of the Yaxley family—not a Death Eater, but not someone she wanted to come across either.

Nott moved for five years imprisonment with a three-year house arrest following it. Hermione thought it ought to have been longer, but for a first offence, she already knew the Chief Warlock wouldn't have granted it.

* * *

On the short trip back to his office, Hermione mentioned that she wasn't hungry. Yet he ordered her food anyway. "I've been looking at clients who may have threatened you," Hermione murmured. "But what about other lawyers?"

He swallowed, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and sighed. "If you want to open the pool of suspects for that, we'll be here a while. I've been prosecuting for ten years now, and while I don't mean to come across as conceited, I've very rarely lost." A small laugh escaped her, and he gave her an odd look. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing."

"You're a bad liar."

"I'll have you know I'm an _excellent _liar," Hermione grumbled.

He tilted his head to the side, resting his cheek in his palm. "Not as good as me. Did you just—"

Hermione grinned. "My foot slipped."

"You kicked me." He deadpanned.

"I was thinking," Hermione returned to his previous question. "That it's no wonder you've never lost. Don't let that go to your head." She flexed her fingers around her cup, lifting it to her mouth. "You're quite good."

A few moments passed before he said anything at all, and she imagined he was still swallowing his shock that she'd praised him. "Thank you." There were awards that adorned the walls behind him, and there were personal pictures on his desk. She knew that there were photographs of his friends. Of Scorpius, and Parkinson's daughter, whose name she didn't know.

Her curiosity bubbled up. "Did you struggle at the beginning because of your father?"

The plastic fork in his hand snapped as he bent it. "Granger?" He hissed.

She didn't say anything.

"I appreciate the compliment, but we're not friends. Even if we were, I'm not likely to discuss my fucking father." He recoiled, throwing the rest of his lunch into the rubbish bin. "Did Malfoy send you our invitations?"

She blinked. "For what?"

His lips flattened into a thin line. "No wonder you've been so fucking chipper all morning. You didn't know that we have plans. Well, dig out your nicest gown because Astoria's memorial gala is tonight."

Her mouth dropped open. "Nott, that's absurd."

Theo slid his glasses onto his face, ripping a scroll of parchment from the bottom drawer on the right. "I know. It's ridiculous that Draco forgot to send our invitations. How else does he expect us to get through the wards?"

"We can't go to a gala. You're under twenty-four-hour protection."

He ignored her outright. "Is it because you don't have a dress. Take yourself shopping, and use my Gringotts account."

Her temper flared. "This is _exactly_ why you're impossible to be around!" Hermione growled, her voice no doubt echoing down the hall, and his smirk slipped from his face. "Now, I didn't compliment you to make my job easier, but is it so much to ask that you don't intentionally make it harder? I apologise for mentioning your father if that's why you've decided to act like such an arse—" Hermione gritted her teeth, rising to her feet as she leaned over the desk. Her hair fell in a curtain.

Nott put his hands up, scooting his chair away from him. "Granger, I didn't mean—"

"I just thought you deserved to hear that you're nothing like your father, and if you struggled as a result of his choices, you didn't deserve it." Taking a deep breath, she ignored the tightness of her chest. "If you'll excuse me, I need to organise a security detail for tonight. Don't leave the Ministry without me. In fact, if you could just not leave this room at all, that would be fantastic."

* * *

Harry signed off on the paperwork without flipping through it, and Hermione failed to realize it was a trap of his. "You're not going to scold me for signing something I haven't read?" He laid his quill down, clasped his hands, and stared at her over the wire rim of his glasses. "Hermione?"

She blew out a breath. "I shouldn't stay. There's an Auror on Nott's office, but I won't be reassured until I see for myself that he's alright."

He pushed away from his desk. "I'll walk you back." Harry quickly caught up to her stride as she swept out of the room. "How is Nott?"

"He's an arsehole," Hermione muttered. "I'd much rather be investigating the latest murder than preventing one at the point."

Pressing his palm to the button for the lift, Harry arched an eyebrow. "That bad?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek. Was it really so bad? Nott was irritating, but she was meant to be a professional. He wasn't _meant _to get under her skin so easily. Hermione sighed heavily as the gate creaked as it opened. "We're going to a gala tonight," she deadpanned. "He's well aware of the danger, but he trapezes around as if nothing has happened."

"Have you asked him why that is?"

Hermione smashed the button for the lowest floor while glaring at him. "Have I asked him, Harry? Are you fucking serious?"

He cleared his throat, visibly fighting off a smile. "I mean, have you asked him politely? There must be a reason. You're naturally abrasive, 'Mione and that's not going to get him to tell you anything."

Hermione almost lost her balance as the lift lurched to a stop. "I may have been more abrasive than normal this morning." She winced. It hadn't taken long for embarrassment to follow her outburst. "Have I always been this way?"

His eyes widened as he faltered. "What do you mean?" It was all the answer she needed. As oblivious as she likes to joke her friend could be, he wasn't. Given the way he looked—worry saturating his features and the lines of his face becoming more pronounced—Harry knew she wouldn't like his answer.

"Never mind." Hermione smiled and patted his shoulder. "I'll use your advice, and I'll send a mission report to your office tomorrow."

Harry latched onto the subject change. "Perfect."

* * *

As the lift climbed levels of the Ministry with Harry only getting farther from her with each second, Hermione leaned against the wall.

First, she'd apologize to Nott. While she thought her time of reacting with her emotions were long behind her, they clearly weren't. And while it had been years since she'd grown into such a cynic, it was evident that she wouldn't be able to hold onto that character trait as long as she was protecting Nott.

Second, she'd try what Harry suggested. Not that she expected it to lead to anything, but surely it wouldn't hurt.

She found Nott still behind his desk, and he lifted his head as she closed the door. "Malfoy owled the invitations to the manor today. Topsy popped into Harry's office to drop them off." Hermione laid them in front of him. "For the record, I do have a dress to wear."

He let his guard down, sniggering. "Are you passing up the chance to shop with my account?"

Turning her nose up, she sniffed in mock offence. "I have my own galleons, Nott. Are you busy?" She took her normal seat, crossing one leg over the other.

"I could take a break."

Hermione nodded, watching him push parchment to the side. "I want to apologize. I had no right to snap at you as I did. It was childish, and I'm quite embarrassed."

"I tend—" He scratched his chin, nails skimming against the faint stubble that had grown throughout the day. "When you mentioned my father, I was angry. I took it out on you." His hand curled into a fist. "There's not an excuse for that, but my want to attend Astoria's gala was not an attempt to get back at you."

The room was warm, which was strange given how chilly he always kept it. "It's a terrible risk, but I understand how much it must mean to you. But if anything happens…"

"Duly noted. Is that all?"

Her shoulders fell and Hermione relaxed. "No, but you don't have to answer my question."

"Personal?" He inquired, his brows knitting together.

Shaking her head, she admitted, "I'm not sure. That depends on your answer."

"I'll admit this isn't the best delivery."

Hermione nearly rolled her eyes. "Is there a reason you refuse to avoid going in public. We've established tonight is important, but you went to pubs several times before Draco came to Harry."

Long seconds blurred into one another. He wasn't going to answer. That was alright, Hermione thought. She wasn't entitled to everything about him.

Nott reaches forward, fingers closing over the top of a frame as he flipped it around. "This was taken on my twentieth birthday." He announced, and she didn't know what he was telling her. "Draco, and Blaise insisted we go for dinner. We were going to go to a club, but Astoria was already pregnant. Pansy learned she was the week after.

"Point is, we planned that dinner for weeks. It had just opened, and reservations were hard to come by. I know for a fact it was all Pansy and Astoria could chatter about for weeks."

Hermione frowned. "Nott?"

"Shh, you always interrupt me." He smiled, this one genuine but it was sombre. "Draco received a threat the day of my birthday, and it was addressed to all of us. You must remember how he was the face of all that was bad after he was spared from Azkaban."

_Oh, no. _

Hermione has the sinking feeling she knew exactly how this story ended.

"We never told Pansy and Astoria the extent of the threat. Sure, the threat told us we were nothing but scum, but it referred to them as Death Eater whores. Astoria was _pregnant_."

Her lips parted.

Theo raked his fingers through his hair, disheveling it. "I read how they wanted to prevent any _more_ Death Eaters. We didn't go. This was taken in the kitchen."

Theo was in the middle, more relaxed than she imagined he could be. In fact, they were all wearing easy smiles. Pansy's arm was draped around Blaise. Astoria was bundled into Malfoy's arms while he pressed a kiss to her temple.

She met his eyes. "I hope you're going to tell me you learned who it was."

He gave a jerk of his chin, a cruel tilt of his lips revealing that truth. "Of course, I wasn't in a position to use the Wizengamot against him, but he's no longer in the country."

Hermione choked.

"He's tragically alive. All I did was run him out of the country, but that's a story for another time." Nott flipped the photograph back around. "It's the last time I let anyone dictate my life, and it's going to remain that way."

She thought it was foolish in the long run, but Hermione didn't voice that. "Thank you for sharing that with me." She whispered as he returned to his case.

Opening the last file she'd been reviewing, she laughed lightly. Tucked inside was a bar of Honeydukes chocolate. "You can't ply me with chocolate every time you're an arse, you know."

Nott didn't lift his head, but she knew he was wearing a humoured expression of his own. "Of course I can. That's how it goes, isn't it?"

She peeled the foil wrapper, and it crinkled. "How did you even get this so quickly?"

"I always drive you mental so I come stocked with it."

Warmth bloomed in her chest. She didn't mention how that meant he'd done something kind for her and prepared to do it several times over. "Honeydukes is my favourite."

He hummed. "Is it?"

* * *

.

Her wand was strapped to her thigh under the too distracting dress. Topsy had picked it up from her flat, praising the smooth satin as she told Hermione it was delivered.

While Nott's eyes had widened a fraction as she joined him at the Floo, clutch in one hand, and her comm in the other, Hermione almost wished she'd dressed in uniform. She'd forgone that option, however, which was no doubt spurred on by the implication that Nott thought she hadn't had anything to wear.

Her hair fell past her shoulders, more manageable than it had been in her awkward years as a teenager, but she'd opted for Sleakeazy's anyway. It hid the comm nestled in her ear.

"You clean up well." He murmured as he took Floo powder into his hand.

She snorted, lifting her head, careful not to rub her lips together or her lipstick might smudge. "Thank you. You look nice as well."

_Nice _didn't begin to cover it. His suit fit him in the best of places, and she'd always been weak for a well-tailored suit. Her induced shiver had nothing to do with the familiar cold chill rolling past them, but it was fleeting.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm always fucking cold, Nott. For some reason, you chose to live in an icebox!" Her tone was wrought with false anger.

His chest rumbled with his laugh, the movement trickling to her as his hand lingered at the small of her back. "I was going to offer you my cloak, but on second thought, I don't think I will."

"You're a true gentleman," Hermione replied evenly. "For Merlin's sake, activate the Floo. I'm sure Malfoy has adopted the modern concept of heat."

* * *

As the first opportunity popped up for Nott to get out of her sight, he leapt at it. Nott could be found across the room, speaking with the elder Greengrass, and Hermione felt inclined to put some space between them. Not that it mattered. Boot was on the other side of the room, giving status reports while sipping a glass of firewhisky.

Which was absolutely a breach of protocol.

"_But, Auror Granger, I need to blend it." _It was rubbish. Even with a glamour, his stance screamed authority, and besides, it hadn't taken long for the rumour mill that was the Ministry to reveal that Nott had a stalker. And wherever he went, Aurors were sure to follow.

Hermione stayed near the edge of the floor, walking the perimeter of the dance floor while smiling to other guests.

It was an annual gala, one hosted in the late Astoria Malfoy's name, and above all else, it was for charity. Hermione had attended with Ron once, and it had gone far better than either of them would have expected. It was the only one she'd made time for, but Hermione had made an annual donation each year.

It was exactly that fact that sent Malfoy to seek her out. A hand settled on her elbow, warm fingers pressing into her skin as the first hour came to a close. "Granger, you dodged me when you gave your donation."

Nott was still across the room, tumbler in hand while he spoke with a blonde witch.

"I was worried you might try to talk me into upping my donation." Hermione said dryly. "What do you want?"

He steered her onto the dance floor.

"You want to dance?" Hermione's tone was incredulous, and she began to pull away from him. "I have a job—"

Malfoy yanked her forward, hands settling at her waist, and pools of grey hardened. "Dance, Granger. This has everything to do with your job, or did you put someone else as the head of security?"

Albeit reluctantly, she rested her arms around his neck. "Talk."

White teeth flashed as he grinned. "Dance." He countered and swung her in between couples. "I realise this isn't ideal," he murmured quietly into her ear, his cheek brushing hers. "Moments ago, I was informed that there's been a breach in the wards."

Hermione started to pull away, but he held her flush against him. "Malfoy, I will hex you into the next decade."

His responding chuckle in her ear was biting. "I'd never know you were an Auror at this rate. Whoever breached the wards is inside the party already. They would probably expect me to rush to you, so the least we can do is pretend I haven't already told you."

"Your distraction is dancing?"

"My distraction is pretended to be utterly enamoured with you, which you're making incredibly hard by the way. Honestly, I don't know what he—" Malfoy cut himself off. "In about ten seconds, I'm going to dip you. Put a cheery fucking smile on your face and look for the man in black."

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. "_Everyone_ is in black." She hissed.

Malfoy turned her, and then the room was upside down.

She scanned the back of the room, her eyes narrowing on a man in black robes. His wand was firmly in his fist, and he looked…

"You see him?" Malfoy grunted as he guided her around the room. "Granger?"

She nodded. "He looks familiar. I've seen him before."

"Is that a good thing?"

Hermione watched him climb the winding staircase, and her stomach dropped. "The sort I remember usually aren't the good sort." Something was wrong. She was sure of it. "Where's Nott?"

Ron's voice responded over the static. "In the middle of the room, staring at you and Malfoy with his mouth open."

Both of their heads turned, and Ron was right. Nott stood to the side of the same witch, his fingers still around his glass, but his knuckles were white.

Malfoy cursed. "Shite."

"There's someone suspicious on the second floor." Hermione ground out. "Go upstairs, and take care of it. I'm on my way." She dropped her arms, but Malfoy caught them. "Malfoy."

"He'll notice if you rush after him, you know." He smirked.

She was going to hit him, Hermione was sure of it. "Are you suggesting that we _dance _toward him?"

Ron's voice sounded in her ear again, panic-stricken as he breathed heavily. "Nott's gone, and—"

The lights cut off. Malfoy's fingers tightened on her wrists, and he whispered. "Stay close."

Honestly, she wasn't sure if he said it for him or for her. All she knew for sure was that Nott was gone, and the lights were—

No sooner than she'd had the thought, there was a hard thud in front of her, directly in front of them. The ground shook, and glass tinkled over their heads.

"Down!" Draco hissed in her ear, throwing an arm around her and tucking her head under his chin.

"Nott's headed upstairs." Boot said. "I just saw him go around the corner. I'll follow him."

The lights came on, and Hermione found that the glass ceiling above them was shattered. There was a hole large enough for someone to fall through, and the echoing screams around her drowned out whatever Boot said next.

Millicent Bulstrode was sprawled on the floor, her body broken, and her limbs bent at an impossible angle. Blood rolled away from her, coating the pristine floors. Hermione reached into the slit of her dress, drawing her wand.

Guests scattered as she knelt down to press her thumb to Bulstrode's pulse. "No one leaves until we interview every person. Lock down the wards now." She growled. "I need Aurors here while I find Nott."

"Shutting down the wards." Bones replied.

"On my way," Ron muttered.

She looked at Malfoy. "You're coming with me."

* * *

**I know this isn't a dramione but I couldn't help myself. Still, that interaction revealed a few **_**interesting **_**things about Theo. I hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think in the reviews/comments/facebook groups/or my askbox on tumblr where you can also stay on anon at mrsren96.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Eventually I will get to normal updates on this story. Unfortunately, this story line is taxing to craft, and I struggle each chapter. But, here is the new update after that cliffhanger. You'll see that I'm just yanking you in over and over again until something **_**really **_**happens. I hope you enjoy! Happy New Year!**

* * *

The room erupted into chaos. It was the only word to describe the rising crescendo of panicked voices that rose in the ballroom. Malfoy remained directly behind her, his hand settling at the small of her back as if she needed help to balance, and she shot him a heated glare as she batted his hand away. "I can climb some stairs." Hermione muttered. Though her dress certainly didn't make it easy.

He rolled his eyes, brows shooting toward his hairline. "Sorry, habit."

Hermione noted the window that was wide open at the end of the corridor, and the vase that sat on the middle of the table in front of it. Sheer drapes blew back in the night breeze.

"If Theo needed a moment alone, he'd probably go into my study." Malfoy said, fingers wrapping around her elbow then while he steered her in the opposite direction. "It's where we stayed during school holidays during the war. He always goes there."

Hermione didn't need the extra explanation, but bit her tongue. "Lead the way then."

She glanced over the pristine railing, her palm smoothing across it. From the second floor, she could barely make out the flash of Ron's hair as he shoved through the crowd, his hands cupped over his mouth while Aurors began crowd control.

"Do you think he's alright?" Malfoy asked, coming to stand in front of a heavy oak door.

Her stomach twisted at the chance of what could be behind that door. There were several possibilities, after all. Nott could have taken a moment to himself, and found himself alone with his stalker. He could be found murdered—that was the worst case scenario, but still, it cropped up and there was no getting rid of it.

_Or, _and it might even be worse than anything else she could think of, Nott could not be in the manor at all.

Pushing Malfoy to the side, her fingers tightened around her wand. "You should go downstairs."

He shook his head. "I'm staying right here, Granger."

"Stay out of the way." She groaned. The handle was cool against her skin, and with a flex of her fingers, Hermione pushed the door open.

The sound of Malfoy's spluttering behind her would have made her laugh if it weren't for the scene before her.

Nott looked unapologetic as he leaned back against a desk centered in the room, while a blonde was on her knees in front of him. "Do you mind?"

Hermione stalked across the room, having half the mind to jab her wand into his throat, and leave him under house arrest until the case was solved. "Are you bloody serious?"

His brows lifted as he stared down at her. His hair was messied, as if someone had recently been running their fingers through it, and his lips were slightly bruised. "What's going on downstairs?" Nott asked. "Draco?"

Seemingly aware that his physical health depended on his ability to stay quiet, Malfoy didn't speak up.

"Granger?" Nott asked. "Look, I'm fucking tired of Aurors breathing down my neck, so if you please—"

Still clenching her jaw, her words slipped through gritted teeth. "There was a murder downstairs."

His eyes widened.

Hermione turned to the witch beside him. "Miss, Mr Malfoy is going to escort you downstairs to the nearest Auror. You'll need to give a statement in order to be released from the wards."

The unnamed witch only waved goodbye to Nott. Her lipstick was smudged.

Silence lingered as the door slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone. Hermione couldn't think of anything beyond voicing her disappointment, or her frustration, and he didn't deserve to hear it. Nott would probably enjoy it. "I need to escort you home now. It's not safe for you to be here."

He nodded. "Was it anyone I knew?"

She didn't want to deal with this. Hermione wasn't completely sure how close Theo Nott had been with Millie in school, but she knew they'd been close enough that he called her by a nickname. She swallowed, and her voice was tight in her throat. "Millicent."

Nott's breath caught, and he steadied himself against the desk, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I was there when the—when she was discovered." A bit of her anger evaporated, but not nearly enough to change her mind. "I'm sorry. I know the two of you were close." Hermione held onto him. "Ready?"

"One thing." Nott murmured, and she stilled in her movement to Apparate. "Did she suffer?"

On one hand, if she lied, he'd know. Nott would know first thing in the morning when he ordered the case to his office—which he shouldn't be allowed to do, but he would due to his own clearance, and no one was going to tell him no—and he might never trust her again if she lied. Not that it would matter shortly.

"I'm so sorry." Hermione's voice cracked, and she watched as he turned away from her.

They left the sound of parchment scattering in their wake.

* * *

Her clothes sailed through the air, and Hermione didn't bother with the simple charm that would fold them before settling in her luggage. Fueled by nothing more than rage and irritation, she didn't care about that at all.

A squeak belonging to a shoe rubbing against the tile came from the doorway, and even with eyes landing on the middle of her back, she didn't bother turning around. "Go to bed, Nott."

He didn't. His hand smoothed down the small of her back, warm digits swiping against her back due to the low cut of her dress. "What are you doing?"

_Was it not bloody obvious? _

Swatting his hand away, and ignoring the loss of it, Hermione stood to glare at him. He was still more than a head taller than her. She swallowed. "I'm submitting a formal request to Auror Potter in the morning. You'll be assigned a new auror for protection."

Nott's eyes widened, and his lips parted, a weak breath escaping.

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "I'll make sure they measure up in blood status for you." She said coolly, turning away from him before she could see what the barb caused.

The fact that he moved quicker than she could notice said _something_, and she didn't have time to consider what. The wall was flush against her spine as he pressed her to it, and glared down at her darkly.

"Merlin, if this is how you react to things, I'm glad this is the last time I'll be forced to see you."

A dark brow arched. "Is that what you think I want? A pureblood Auror?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione muttered, "That's the sort of resistance I'm typically met with. And for the life of me, I can't think of a _single _reason why you chose to go upstairs."

"Needed a new view," he growled, jaw clenched.

She snorted. "I bet you did, like that blonde?"

"Jealous?"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

Nott's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I don't want another auror."

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "I don't want to babysit you, but here I am."

He sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face. "I'll stop."

A concession.

Perfect.

Nott left without another word, and Hermione remained leaned against the wall where he'd pushed her for several minutes.

She certainly wasn't thinking about anything other than the case.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione met him at the Floo and stepped through with him. The Ministry was a flurry of activity, and she caught more than one sideways glance as she followed Nott down toward the Wizengamot chambers. Once they were firmly isolated—which she suspected was helped along by the sudden glare her counterpart had shot toward another wizard trying to get on the lift—Nott cleared his throat.

"Millie's report is on my desk."

She sighed. "You shouldn't look at it."

"Careful, Granger or I might think you care about me." He drawled easily, leaning his shoulder to the wall. "Besides, I'm not going to look at it. We're going to look at it."

Hermione sipped her coffee, brewed just for her, and ignored him. There was no point in replying anyway considering he'd as he pleased regardless. And as long as that was confined to his office as well as in her line of sight, Hermione would let it go.

The lift came to a lurching stop, and she planted her feet so she didn't go forward like Nott did. Smirking at him from behind her cup, she stepped off. "You'd think you'd know that was coming."

His face soured.

They made the short walk to his office, passing Greengrass—who smiled toward her—and Percy—who stopped her.

Theo stopped with them, and a scowl twisted his features. She doubted he was content to wait on her conversation, but he didn't voice that.

"Are you coming to Harry's for Easter hols?" Percy asked, straightening his glasses. His taste hadn't changed in years; he was still wearing the same horn-rimmed style. "The kids are hoping to see you. I told Ron I'd give you the message since I'm more likely to see you than him right now. What with Nott's case and all."

"Um," Hermione shifted her weight. "I'm not sure I'll be able to make it with my current case. As you can imagine, I'm rather busy."

He peered at her, tucking a stack of files beneath his arm. "Of course. I'm sure you'll have a break soon enough. I'll be sure to let Ron know."

"I'll tell him." Hermione smiled. "You must be busy enough. I'll just send him a memo once I sit down."

Percy turned his back without a word, and disappeared into his office.

Nott nudged her shoulder. "Granger?"

"Right." She breathed. "I'm coming."

* * *

She couldn't believe what she was looking at, but there it was. Nott had leaned back in his chair, his face draining of colour as she held the photograph in shaking hands. "This isn't your stalker." She whispered.

Morsmordre stared back at her, the skull appearing to mock her from where it had been branded into Millie's back. No, this likely wasn't related to Nott at all. She'd learned of the serial killer the morning she had returned to work, in the same conversation that Harry told her to protect Nott at all costs.

Nott wiped the back of his mouth. "How in the bloody _fuck_ did this maniac get through the wards?"

"I don't know." Hermione replied, slipping the photograph back into the file. "But I'm going to figure it out." Or help, in any case. "I need to speak to Harry. Fancy a trip upstairs?"

* * *

Before she could request permission from Harry to help with the case, and to pile onto her already heavy workload, Millicent Bulstrode's funeral was arranged. It should have been easier, Hermione thought, to admit to herself why she was so focused on solving the mystery. Nott would eat up the lie that she _needed_to be involved in everything, but she'd seen the way his face crumbled in Malfoy's study that night.

And she couldn't get it out of her head. It haunted her. From the moments before she finally fell asleep at night, to the moments where she would catch herself cataloguing his features from her spot across from him, every time she looked at him, she remembered what he looked like when he learned his friend was dead.

She wasn't making any progress in discovering who exactly wanted _him_ dead, so the least she could do was try. Harry wouldn't tell her no, and if the gossip floating from the DMLE and down was anything to go by, he needed the help.

After the war, in the weeks that followed, there had been several funerals. There had been so many to lay to rest that Hermione still couldn't recall it very well. She remembered Ron at her side, his arm preventing her from falling. Everyone they knew thought she'd just been handling it well—and she'd heard her future mother-in-law mutter that she was too _cold_—but no, it had been Ron.

The thought came to her as she milled in the back of the room, watching as Millicent Bulstrode's friends and family came together to mourn. Under a glamour so as not to attract attention, Hermione lingered. Her gaze swept the room, careful to observe anything, or anyone, out of place. Harry's words rang loud and clear in her head: _the killer might show his face._

She doubted it, but she doubted many things at this point.

While the witch's funeral was hardly the place be pondering the end she'd met, Hermione continued to cycle through the facts. The Daily Prophet was reporting that Bulstrode was the latest victim in a string of killings—all related, thought Aurors had no idea how. Without getting the official file in her hands, she couldn't confirm the thoughts.

The Dark Mark seared into the woman's back had been unmistakable, but as she looked it over the night before in Nott Manor with parchment littered across her bed, Hermione was certain it was a copycat.

Nott caught her eye from across the room, raising his chin, and nodded in her direction.

She swallowed hard, and looked to the front of the room where he and Malfoy stood. Parkinson was between the two of them, her cheeks streaked with tears. She leaned into Nott, and his chin rested on top of her head.

For all she hoped that the killer would show, and subsequently be arrested, Hermione knew that would have been too much to ask for.

* * *

Nott's behavior improved.

It didn't mean that he would stop taking cases that held the potential to put him in danger, try as she might to convince him otherwise. They woke each morning, and there was an established routine where he somehow made it into the dining room before her. There would be a to-go cup of coffee waiting for her on the table, and she'd grab it as he barely gave her any time to follow him to the Floo.

That wasn't the case on a morning a week after the funeral. He'd been quieter, less argumentative, and Hermione found herself missing the verbal sparring.

Straightening her jacket, Hermione combed her fingers through her hair as she made her way into the dining room.

No Nott.

No coffee.

Humming under her breath, Hermione made her way into the kitchen, and froze at the door. "Are you making coffee?" Her voice came out much harsher than she intended it to.

Nott yanked his hand back, and the cup crashed to the floor. "Fuck, that burns." He groaned, and reached for his wand. "I thought you were supposed to know how to enter a room quietly?"

She crossed the tile floor, coming to rest against the counter. Dark liquid seeped between the gaps of the tiles. "I do." Hermione snapped. "Pardon me for being surprised that you're—"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm just making coffee."

She stared at him, her eyes searching his. "You don't drink coffee."

The corner of his lips twitched. Mischief spanned his features, but under that there was—

"I drink coffee." Hermione continued dumbly. "You argued with me about it last week. About the merits of tea, and how coffee didn't have any."

A loud snort filled the space between them. "Look, Granger—"

Hermione stepped over the puddle, tilting her head up to meet the glare he gave her. "Have you been making my coffee every morning?"

Nott choked. "What?"

Looking at the coffee machine, she smirked. "If you were going to make coffee, you wouldn't use a muggle coffee maker, Nott."

"Topsy brought it here from your flat."

Well, that bit was true it seemed. Hermione recognised the scuff at the bottom. "Really?"

"Yes, really, you infuriating—"

Hermione's lips parted. "Topsy!"

The little house elf popped in. "Yes?"

With her elbow braced against the counter, she asked, "Would you mind making my morning coffee? Nott here apparently doesn't know how to work a muggle machine. Must be the—"

He scoffed. "Oh, now you're not preaching about spew?"

"It was _S.P.E.W._" She huffed, standing straight. "And I don't recall ever mentioning it to you!"

"Not that you had to. Everyone at Hogwarts heard about that."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "If we're going to dredge up memories from twenty years ago, I should mention that you were—"

" I was _what_?" He growled.

Hermione's mouth dried. Anything she spit out would be petty, like how he'd been _too_ skinny in school, but then he would undoubtedly force her to admit that he'd certainly filled out since then. "Topsy, would you please prepare my coffee? You always make it just the way I like it."

Eyes wide and her ears flapping, Topsy looked back and forth between the two of them. "Master be making Miss Granger's coffee every morning!"

Nott heaved a rough sigh, carding his fingers through his hair. Topsy reached for the wooden spoon on the counter, presumably to hit herself with it and he reached out to stop her. "It's fine, Topsy. You're not in trouble." He plucked the spoon from her grip. "Just don't say anything else."

Before Hermione could ask just what that meant, Topsy vanished with a snap of her fingers. "So." She murmured. "You make great coffee."

Nott snorted a laugh. "It's the press of a fucking button, Granger."

"Why?"

Grumbling while he smashed the button under his thumb, it didn't seem like he was going to answer. "I know I'm not easy to deal with." Nott muttered. He stood in silence next to her until the pot finished brewing, and slid it to her. "I was just being nice."

She smiled, and it seemed to catch him off guard as his eyes widened. "Coffee and chocolate," Hermione mused. "I think you're nicer than you let on."

There was a muffled, "Don't get used to it," under his breath as he swept out of the room.

Hermione followed, a smug smile on her lips

* * *

Harry was waiting inside of Nott's office. "Took your time getting in this morning, didn't you?"

Nott didn't comment, nor did he smile when she laughed. "Nott had some trouble with the coffee maker." Hermione said, closing the door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

Drawing his lip between his teeth, Harry thrust out a manilla file. "I shouldn't let you help."

She took the file from him, her amusement slipping away from her. "Might as well," Hermione shrugged. "It's not as if I'm breaking any ground here."

Her friend frowned. "No new leads, I take it? That's not good news."

"The threats have ceased as well." Hermione sighed. "It should be good news, but with everyday he doesn't receive one…" She trailed off. "I'll come to you if I discover anything. In this case, or Nott's stalker."

Harry nodded, and the door clicked shut behind him.

As her shoulders deflated, Hermione sank into her normal seat.

Nott lifted an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

Cracking the file open across her lap, she rested her cheek against her palm. "You heard Harry."

"I didn't, actually. I ignored him."

A smile graced her lips that she couldn't hold back. "Of course you were. Well, you're already aware that there are no leads in your case."

"And that bothers you?"

"Of course it does. Someone out there wants you dead, and we're not any closer to learning who that is. The least I can do is make myself useful somehow, even if it's a different case. It's nothing." Hermione muttered.

* * *

They settled into a silence that was familiar to them, but she could feel him staring at her every once in a while. Hermione opted to ignore it. The incident from that morning—their squabble, to put it aptly—still stuck her as odd.

Nott pushed away from his desk, and rounded the desk. "Show me what you're working on. Maybe I can help." He leaned over the back of her chair, his forearms warm against the top of her back. "Granger."

"Here," Hermione held up a photograph. "This is a suspect the DMLE is looking at. There was an anonymous tip, but so far—" she shuffled the papers "—no one knows who he is."

His eyes were harsh, similar to how he appeared in court when she'd watched him—only the once. "I know that tattoo under his eye. I've heard it described before, and I'm almost certainly I've seen it once."

She perked up, twisting in her seat. "Do you recall what it means?"

Flashing a bright smile, Nott let the photo drop through the air and into her lap. "He's part of a gang. They call him the Reaper. Hit-Wizard from what I've heard. He's never been caught." He tilted his head to the side. "But he's never met you."

Her cheeks flushed, and pride swam in her stomach. "Well, I can't go on a mission. Not with the assignment I currently have. I'll let Harry know."

He nodded. "You should let him know at dinner since we'll be there."

Lips parting, Hermione's knee banged against the front of his desk. "Pardon?"

"The one Weasley mentioned earlier this week." Nott replied, reclaiming his seat. "It seemed like you were upset to miss it. I sent Potter a memo earlier."

"But I have to stay with—"

"—me. Not to worry, Granger. I'll be there."

Suddenly, Hermione couldn't think of anything worse than bringing Theodore Nott to dinner with a slew of Potters and Weasleys.

* * *

James crashed into her the second they entered the sitting room. Barreling into her with a rough hug that threatened to squeeze the life out of her, he peered up at her through thick lashes. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite aunt?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Only when you need something."

At her side, her _companion _snorted.

"Well," James began. "There is this one favor I need."

"Mm," Hermione pursed her lips together. "I thought so. What is it?"

"I need a tutor for Charms."

"James, I don't have time to—"

He threw his hands up. "No, no, it's nothing like that, I swear! It's just that McGonagall said she'd give me _Malfoy_ as a tutor unless I could get Inell to tutor me."

Albus stuck his head out from the kitchen, treat in hand. "You just don't want Malfoy to tutor you because you'll have to actually work!"

"Shut up, Al. I don't need a kid tutoring me anyway."

Theo could barely hold in his laughter.

Hermione sighed. "How exactly do I fit into this?"

"You're Inell's hero. She's got a poster of you and everything. She knows everything about you." James rambled, fumbling as he dug through his pockets. "Would you sign your chocolate card for her?" He thrust it into her hands.

Honestly, she barely looked like herself. Every few years they updated the cards, and once upon a time, Hermione's had been a moment captured while she was presented with an Order of Merlin after the year. This one was seemingly the latest one.

It was taken after the bombing. She recognised the background of the city behind her. With her wand gripped tightly in her hand, she looked every bit of the Auror she tried to be.

"Aunt 'Mione?"

"Do you have a pen?" Hermione asked flatly. "If I sign this, will you promise to do your best? Don't think I won't ask your father about it, and if you are doing poorly, I'll convince your parents you need Malfoy to tutor you."

James' eyes flew open. "I promise, I promise!" He hurried off to grab a pen.

Nott bumped her shoulder with his own. "Are you alright?"

She could only sigh. "I hate this fucking photo and the day is represents." Hermione bit out, and made her way toward the kitchen

* * *

Hermione later learned that it had been entirely Nott's idea to come after Harry told her he'd received a memo. "He asked if he could come with you so you wouldn't miss out. I told him I wasn't sure if you really wanted to come. I know how you felt about Christmas, and I forced you into that—"

"It was his idea?" Hermione echoed. "That doesn't sound like him."

Harry snorted. "You hardly know him though beyond the last few months. How would you know?"

She let it go, but evidently something had shifted. Nott entered the kitchen, lingering in the entryway. "Am I interrupting?"

She shook her head. "Actually, Harry, Nott discovered something in the case that might be helpful. One of your suspects is a Hit-Wizard."

Nott cut it. "I suspect he is. I've only ever met others who've heard of him."

"Do you have any idea where to find him then?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I do."

Harry's gaze flicked between the two of you. "You don't make a bad team."

Hermione snorted, but it wasn't until later that she realized Nott hadn't reacted at all.

In fact, he'd left them quickly after.

* * *

**I will see you with an update in the new year sometime. I hope this was enjoyable. Please let me know!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Since my updates are slow, I'd like to say that this story has quite a few cliffhangers. Typically, I wouldn't tell you this, but I feel like I should. Thank you to dreamsofdramione for the fantastic beta job and to mcal for prereading. **

* * *

**Parchment rustled and the flame of a candle to her right flickered.**

Hermione leaned over the table, drawing a sharp breath in before expelling it completely as she looked over the documents. Irritation coiled in her stomach and she wanted to flip the table. She wished she could send these blasted documents scattering in all directions—preferably into the fucking fireplace for all the good they did her.

She was missing something.

Hermione knew it as well as Nott did, or Harry did, and it was exhausting to spend day after day prepared for anything. She'd been on Nott since Christmas. Three bloody months and she hadn't discovered the identity of his stalker.

Aurors were talking.

She may not have heard them herself, but it didn't take much to send the whispers of her failure sliding down the grapevine of the Ministry. It was all—

"Granger." He cleared his throat and folded his arms over his chest. Nott's eyes darkened as they raked over her. "It's midnight."

She nodded. "I have things to do."

He scoffed. "The only _thing _you need to do is sleep. You'll run yourself into the ground if you keep going as you have been." Nott's robe skirted the floor as he came to her side and sank to the floor. His knee bumped the table as he reached for one of the files. "Since you're not going to listen to me, how can I help?"

Hermione glanced up and caught sight of herself in the glass door behind him on the other side of the room. "I look like a nightmare."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Is that something I'm meant to comment on?"

That earned a laugh, however bleak it sounded to her own ears. "Look, I know you must think I'm working myself ragged because I just adore running myself into the ground," she quoted with a sigh. "But that's not the case."

"Hmm."

"In fact, the longer I spend on this case, the more I wonder what life would be like if I left it altogether." Hermione curled her hand into a fist. "I didn't plan to say that."

He nodded. "I'm certain you're only operating by the grace of coffee at this point, Granger. I seriously doubt you're thinking straight at all." His words were soft and she couldn't deny them.

How could she solve anything if she wasn't taking care of herself?

This was an obsession.

"Have you ever told anyone you want to quit?"

There was a buzzing in her ears as she shook her head. "No, I haven't. I've always loved my career. I just—I don't know why I'm telling you any of this." Hermione laced her fingers together and rolled her shoulders. "Have _you _ever felt like leaving?"

This was the sort of thing strangers talked about at midnight. All of the things they shouldn't, the things she'd regret being so open about with the sun broke the horizon in a matter of hours. She expected Nott to blow out a breath and laugh at her, but instead, he slowly nodded.

"Have you ever told anyone that?" Hermione whispered.

Nott raised his wand, and dozens of pieces of parchment folded themselves into neat stacks while she turned to face him. "I might have told Malfoy once when I was pissed. Why would you want to leave?"

She drew in a slow breath as she internalized her debate. "If I tell you…will it remain between us?" A shiver unfurled on her spine as he leveled his gaze on her, and flames reflected back in his eyes.

There was a short dip of his head, and a breath passing his lips that felt so much louder than it was. "Yeah, Granger. You can say anything you want without fear of me repeating it."

"I lost someone." She picked at her fingernails. "There was a bombing in Milan. I had someone to protect." Hermione blinked as her eyes began to burn.

He straightened, and rested his cheek in his palm. "I read about it in the Daily Prophet. It was all they would write about for weeks," Nott said slowly. "So forgive me if I don't ask what you're referring to. You were hired as a bodyguard, and you did your job. They reported that excellently—"

"I'm _not _talking about him." She knew her lower lip was trembling as she met his gaze.

Nott closed his hand over hers where it rested on the sofa behind them. "I didn't know there was more than one client."

She shook her head. "There wasn't. No one knows. They didn't report it because—" Hermione swallowed hard. "There was a little girl there. At the time, I didn't know why she was there, but I later learned her father had brought her to work with him." Curling the fingers of her free hand in her hair, she could have sworn she could smell the stench of rising flames. "I got out but I decided to go back inside. Witches and wizards were attempting to contain the fire and I was explicitly told not to go inside."

He traced a slow line over her knuckles—back and forth—with his thumb. "They must not have known you if they thought you could be stopped." As much as his attempt at humour to alleviate the tension was appreciated, she didn't smile.

"Her father was dead on the floor when I found her kneeling at his side. The ceiling was split open and he was crushed beneath fallen debris. I grabbed her even as she screamed for me to help him. She hit me over and over again when I slung her over my shoulder."

The only sound beyond the crackling in the fireplace was their shallow breathing. "Did you get her out?"

Hermione swallowed and her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. "The reports said I was a bloody hero that day. There were wizards inside the building, ready to make a political statement, and I—I set her down."

"You couldn't have fought them off with her in your arms, Granger."

"I could have _tried," _she snapped. "I watched her run down the corridor. She couldn't have been more than six years old. Sure, I did my duty as an Auror, those men didn't leave the building after they authorized the use of unforgivables."

And she'd made good use of them.

"Why was it so easy for me to cast the killing curse but I couldn't save a little girl?"

Nott slid forward, and closed the gap between them. He curled his fingers around the nape of her neck and pulled her forward.

She could barely breathe as she rested her forehead against his shoulder.

He rubbed circles over her back. "I don't have the answer," Nott murmured. "I'm sorry you couldn't save her."

Hermione nodded.

"I'm sorry you've been carrying this around for so long, but I'm not that little girl."

Her body stiffened and her breath rolled across his throat. Hermione thought he shivered. "Nott—"

"You're not a failure for not solving this quickly," he whispered, his fingers splaying across her back. "For all we know, he's lying in wait now, just waiting for us to be vulnerable, and all we can do is be prepared. However…" His lips brushed the top of her head, she was sure of it. "We can't be prepared if you're working yourself ragged."

Tilting her head, but still resting her temple on his shoulder, Hermione peered up at him. Shadows slipped over his face and his eyes were much softer than she'd ever seen before. "I'll do better."

"Perfect." He grinned, and his teeth showed.

"Tomorrow," Hermione added, and laughed loudly as his irritation grew.

He glanced down, and she followed the motion. Nott traced a miniscule scar on her knee, revealed by the fact that she was only wearing shorts to sleep in. "Where did you get this?" Heat radiated across her flesh but he didn't pull away.

Hermione sat up, forcing herself to stop leaning on him before she made a fool of herself. "My father bought a bicycle for me on my tenth birthday. I wrecked it within the and cut my knee open on a rock."

Running the tip of his finger of the thin white scar, he murmured, "You could fix this with magic. Why haven't you?"

Her parents were lost to her forever, but she wasn't able to form the words. "I didn't want to lose the memory."

As he looked back at her, Hermione felt like she had just stumbled across a secret she didn't understand.

* * *

**Early Monday morning, Hermione lounged in the leather chair opposite Nott and flipped through a magazine. He'd taken her files, tucking them into the bottom drawer of his desk with the news that he'd elected to put her on what he referred to as a detox, but said he would hand them back if anything arose.**

Something did come up. It just wasn't the sort of thing she could fix.

The door crashed open, frosted glass rattling inside its frame, and Hermione shot to her feet. Malfoy appeared panicked, his hair disheveled as he slammed the door shut, and locked it behind him. His eyes were wild, and his lips continued to move—seemingly forming words—but not a sound came out.

She turned to look at Nott as he rounded his desk. "Draco, what is it? Is Scorpius—"

"My father has been made eligible for parole due to overcrowding." Malfoy's hands curled into fists at his side. "Mother just called me at St. Mungo's. You have to stop this."

The floor swayed under her feet as she digested the news. "I need to talk to Harry. If we've found this out before anyone else, we may be able to get ahead of the news cycle."

Malfoy's brows shot up. "I don't care about the bloody—"

"If you haven't told your son, he shouldn't hear it from the Hogwarts rumor mill," Hermione said softly. "And Harry needs to know regardless."

Draco's glare was hard as he looked past her. "Are you going to take care of this?"

Theo nodded. "Of course, I'll handle it. Granger, do you think Potter will give you sealed documents from the war? I can be cleared for them, but it would take time that I'm not sure we have."

Several thoughts rushed through her mind at once, but Hermione sighed. "He'll release them to me."

"Get to Hogwarts." Theo summoned their coats. "Scorpius should hear it from you rather than a rash student who may not be so kind."

The man scoffed. "Owl me."

"You know I will." Theo's jaw clenched.

Sensing how well her opinion would be received, Hermione waited for the door to close before she spoke. "I don't think you should accept this case right now."

He glared at her. "I already knew that."

There was a choice before her—she could help him without argument, or she could fight for him to drop the case. Hermione gulped. "I hope I don't regret this. Let's get to the DMLE before Harry's dragged into a meeting."

* * *

**The sound of rustling parchment floated in the air of the archives, and Hermione watched Nott carefully from her seat. It was the third night in a row they had stayed so late, and he'd said perhaps two things to her tonight since he'd begun digging into the files.**

"Do you want to help me?"

Hermione nodded, closing her file. "I thought you might appreciate it if I stayed out of the way or I would have asked sooner."

Nott slid a document across the table. "I'm looking for anything that will convince the Wizengamot Lucius shouldn't be released. That's from the first war."

She opened it carefully, watching the edge of the folder flake due to age and wear. Skimming the first page, Hermione couldn't stifle her gasp in time and her eyes snapped to his. He was already watching her.

"I know."

"This is about Lucius Malfoy and your father." Hermione's voice shook. "Theo, I don't have to read this. You don't have to share this with me if—"

The smile he gave her was a secret kind of smile, and she got the impression that he knew something she didn't. "It's fine. You're going to hear it during the trial most likely anyway. Besides, I'm not my father."

—_Gutted—_

—_Eviscerated—_

—_Modified Cruciatus—_

"No, you're not."

* * *

**By this point, Hermione had memorized the curve of Theo's mouth whenever he scowled, which was often. Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot as the Chief Warlock looked them over in his private office and she knew whatever news he had wasn't good.**

Nott likely already knew which explained his surly mood all morning.

"Mr. Malfoy wants to call Auror Granger as a witness as a part of his defence." The Chief Warlock folded his hands in his lap. "His lawyer has informed me that you'll be willing to testify that he acted in the interest of his family during the war, just as you did fifteen years ago."

She glanced at Nott and sighed. "I was eighteen years old and believed he might deserve a chance. I know now that was my own naiveté and hope that the world was as capable of forgiveness as I was."

The old man smirked, revealing yellowing teeth. "Would you say that's changed now, Auror Granger?"

Lifting her chin, Hermione stared down her nose at him. "Now that I know what atrocities he committed in the first Wizarding War, yes, I would say it has. He's too dangerous to be allowed out of Azkaban."

Nott didn't say anything.

She wasn't even sure if he was breathing.

The Chief Warlock leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as he rested his arms on his desk. "You should be careful, Auror Granger, if you're going to speak of incidents that occurred before you were even born."

Nott gave a slight shake of his head, so she swallowed whatever barb had been on the tip of her tongue.

"It's not matter now. You'll not be testifying on either side of this trial, Auror Granger. I've rejected the request placed by Malfoy's lawyer and Theodore here."

"On what grounds?" She noticed the edge to Theo's voice that she was certain anyone else would have missed.

"Conflict of interest."

Nott gripped her elbow and dragged her out before she could say a word.

* * *

**Hermione was furious by the insinuation that she and Nott were… Well, more than colleagues. They were barely that.**

"You're just as angry as I am," Nott told her hours later as they left his office. "But there's nothing we can do about it right now. If you barge into his office, you'll only draw attention to us. Then they'll believe there _is_ something to hide."

She bumped into Percy as they made their way to the lift and muttered an apology under her breath.

"Sorry to hear you won't be able to testify," Percy called after them and Hermione froze mid step. As she turned, he continued, pushing his dragon horned glasses up his nose. "You can't blame yourself, honestly."

"What can she not blame herself for, Weasley?" Theo narrowed his eyes. "I would tread carefully here if I were you."

Percy feigned nonchalance. "It's just that attraction isn't easy to ignore when you're a divorced witch."

Theo stepped forward, and she gripped his forearm, digging her nails in.

"After all, no one really needs to spend so much time in the archives so late. People talk, I'm sure you're aware. Maintenance mentioned that the two of you seemed rather… _close._ There's nothing wrong with it, of course. One just has to wonder if that's why your pesky little problem hasn't been resolved."

Hermione watched Nott's hand near his wand and she rolled her eyes. "Have a good night, Percy. Perhaps while you're obsessing over my life you'll find one of your own."

* * *

**"****You should have let me hex him." Nott dropped the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet in front of her. "I'm positive he had something to do with this."**

Hermione stared at the cover. A moving picture was displayed, showing a moment from the week before where she'd tripped over a step and Nott caught her. But she could see how it looked if someone stared at it long enough. Maybe it was that his hand lingered at the middle of her back for too long, or the way she smiled up at him.

One thing was clear, however, it had been blown wildly out of proportion.

The headline read: _Solving Trouble or Causing it?_

* * *

**The news broke quickly and the headline that made her stomach twist—for reasons she couldn't decipher—was quickly forgotten by the public eye.**

Seated deep underground in Nott's office, Hermione couldn't hear the protests, but she knew they were raging outside the Ministry. For Lucius Malfoy to even be considered for early parole was inconceivable, and for another time, she quietly pondered how none of it seemed to make sense. Things tended to move quickly inside the Ministry, bills were passed daily, but more often than not, the ones that deserved to pass were blocked by slyly placed injunctions.

It had been for the best that she hadn't gone into work with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but she couldn't help but admit that she still watched the flow of the department.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Nott dipped his quill into a jar of ink. "You're tightly wound, Granger. You're going to combust."

Clearing her throat, Hermione uncrossed her legs, and shook her head. "I don't understand why he's been made eligible for parole."

His lips pressed together into a thin line. "Azkaban has been overcrowded for years now. We've been able to push back incidents like this by adding onto the structure, but it was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

"I don't understand how you can be so calm about this. He's a horrible wizard. The things he's done…" Hermione trailed off, wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.

Arching a dark brow, he smirked. "You can say it, you know. It won't make me angry."

"You gave me that file." A cold chill rolled across her skin. "It made me nauseous. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to make me squirm?"

"Not easy, I assume," he drawled. "My father was even worse, but all this serves as a lesson in what money can cover. Lucius isn't going to be paroled, Granger."

A sigh formed on her lips. "Because you're going to make sure of it?"

"You're catching on now."

* * *

**Every day that carried them closer to the trial, Hermione grew more anxious. While it should have been a good thing that nothing had occurred, and no threat to Nott had landed at their doorstep, she had to consider the possibly that his work may very well have put him in more danger.**

The Daily Prophet had dutifully reported each detail of the impending trial that left the wizarding world in its shadow. And it only served to fuel her irritation.

Theodore Nott was splashed across every front page in bold, black ink. They reported the statistics of his successes and his failures—but there were only so few of those. They kept the public informed of the fact that he had shouldered the monumental pressure of what could become the biggest case of his career while being the prey of someone else.

It fed into a madman's need to be recognized. _Feared._

Nott worked tirelessly as he compiled documents, scratching notes into parchment until she nagged him to go to bed. That was a twist in itself. The two of them had grown close over the last two weeks.

She watched him, her interest piqued, as he grumbled to himself.

The fact that he allowed her to hover—and never complained—felt like they had crossed an inevitable line, but Hermione couldn't say when it had been.

Pushing the thought away, Hermione entered Harry's office. He sat behind his desk, his eyes closed, and his boots kicked on top. "Are you napping?"

Her voice hadn't been particularly loud, but Harry visibly froze as he cracked one eye open. "Just resting my eyes."

"Sure you are. I came to make a request for a safe house." Hermione closed the door behind her and sat across from him. "Boot is watching Nott. I probably have fifteen minutes before Nott forces his way up here."

"Not a patient man, I take it?" Harry chuckled.

She shook her head. "I want to put Nott in a safe house until this disaster is over."

His raised his eyebrows. "The wards on Nott Manor were checked at the beginning of the week, Hermione. I don't think—" Harry paused. "Do you feel this is necessary?"

Hermione nodded. "I do and I don't have a reason to give you for it. Call it a gut feeling, Harry. Lucius Malfoy must have contacts outside of prison."

"And you're worried he'll make an attempt on Nott's life?"

"I think that if I had been imprisoned for over a decade, I would do anything to get out. Malfoy knows the manor quite well. His son and Nott were close friends from childhood. Not to mention the fact that he knew Nott Sr."

Harry's fingers tapped against a piece of parchment that had been crinkled by his boots. "I'll send the approval and details to you later today."

* * *

**He wasn't pleased with the relocation and Hermione could hardly feign surprise. His footfalls sounded heavily through the ornate ceiling over her head as she sat on the sofa. Topsy popped in to check on her, muttering under her breath, and vanished before Hermione could ask her how long Nott would be.**

Sighing to herself, Hermione left her bags at the Floo and climbed the stairs. He wasn't difficult to find. She leaned against the doorframe of his study. "Can I help you gather your things? We need to be going."

Nott shot her a hot glare as he crammed file after file into his briefcase.

"Have you cast an undetectable extension charm?"

He didn't reply, but turned the briefcase toward her and revealed stacks of papers inside.

Hermione crossed the room with small strides and rested her hip against his desk. "It's only for the duration of the trial, Nott. That's not so bad."

While he didn't agree with her, Nott motioned toward the last stack of documents for her to gather.

* * *

**Hermione knew it had been an Order safe house during the first war. She'd found where someone had etched lines into the wall beside her bed—counting the days until they suddenly stopped. The realization sent a harsh shiver down her spine, and she turned the other way so she wouldn't have to look at them when she finally crawled into bed.**

Nott hadn't argued after they'd arrived. He'd given her a clipped nod before turning in the opposite way, disappearing into a spare bedroom.

Hermione couldn't sleep. Each time she came so blissfully close to drifting away, the window pane creaked, and she grumbled under her breath. Hermione reached for her wand when a single thud came from the lower floor.

She closed her fingers around the thin profile of her wand in the darkness. Lifting her narrowed eyes, Hermione spotted a shadow flitting across the windowsill. It could have been a shadow from the tree, her mind reasoned.

She carefully slid out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cool, wooden floor. The hairs on her arms stood on end as Hermione crept out of the room, keeping her eyes trained on the window the entire time.

The door shut with an inaudible click and Hermione turned on her heel.

"Granger." A warm hand gripped her elbow. "Shh, quiet. I think there's someone inside." Nott held his wand at his side and peered down at her. "I was coming to check on you. We need to Apparate out."

Hermione dipped her head, swallowing hard. "Have you seen anyone?"

"I didn't go looking for trouble."

"Can you Apparate through the wards?"

Nott's features tightened in time with his hand on her elbow. "I'm not going to leave without you," he whispered, and angled his body in front of her, blocking the stairs from view.

The top stair creaked, the same one that she'd commented on hours earlier.

Hermione curled her fingers in the front of his shirt, and hauled him behind her, raising her wand. The dim light of the corridor shadowed their attacker's face. "_Bombarda!" _Hermione cried out, raising her wand to the light over his head.

It shattered, the light flashed and glass met the floor with a light sound.

It crunched as the man climbed the stairs.

"Go, now!" Hermione pushed Theo down the corridor. "Into that room there! _Stupefy!"_

"We need to Apparate—"

"You need to fucking _listen _to me," Hermione growled. "I'm the Auror here. Get in the fucking room so I can handle—"

He turned sharply, and pointed his wand over her shoulder. "_Impedimenta! _There's another one now, and another climbing the stairs. You're a brilliant witch, Granger, but three is—"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione cast a shield charm and kicked the door open. She met his gaze as he conjured a protective shield. "I'm not sorry for this."

She shoved him and Nott stumbled backwards. "What are you—" He realised what she'd done just as she twisted her hand midair and the door of the panic room slammed shut.

Hermione squared her shoulders as he beat on the door. She sent a Patronus to Harry, murmuring, "_The wards have been breached," _and threw herself into the onslaught.


	8. Chapter 8

**Love to mcal and dreamsofdramione. All mistakes are my own. **

* * *

Her ears were ringing as offensive spells volleyed back and forth in the minuscule space. She could feel the vine detailing digging into her palm as her fingers tightened around the thin profile of her wand.

Unforgivables ricocheted through the air, streaks of green hurled past her as she ducked.

Aurors poured into the safe house. Harry called out for her but Ron reached the top of the stairs before anyone else.

She knew better than to be distracted by someone calling her name. His mouth formed the words _get down_ just before magic exploded to the right of her head and her ears began to ring in double time. Heat bloomed across her chest and Hermione staggered backward. Red seeped into her shirt and she collapsed against the door.

Theo pounded on it as she slid to the floor. "Granger!"

Ron slid to a stop in front of her, bright blue eyes wide as he fawned over her. "Come on, 'Mione, you've gotta stay awake. You know that."

But she was so tired.

All of the chaos died down following a series of violent cracks that signaled Apparition.

Clutching her stomach, Hermione watched in horror as her hands came away covered in blood. "I have to Apparate."

He shook his head. "You'll splinch yourself if you try. Oh, bloody hell, I'm going to let him out now." Ron reached over her head and pointed his wand to the doorknob.

It swung open and she fell backwards.

Hermione's vision blurred as she stared up at him. While she knew there was only one figure—and it belonged to Nott—she saw two. "Take me to St Mungo's."

"Granger!" Nott lifted her head. He wiped strands of hair away from her face and pulled her up against his chest. "She's going to bleed out."

"Can't breathe—" Hermione clutched his forearms. "Stray hex hit my throat."

The world spun out from under her and her stomach heaved. Still holding onto Nott, lights brightened overhead and she recognised the ceiling of St Mungo's. "Draco!"

Her body shifted and warm blood ran between her fingers. "Gonna die." She choked through as gasp just as footsteps caught up to them.

"What in Merlin's name happened to her?" Draco was there, shining a light in her eyes, and he pressed his hand to her chest. "Theo?"

Theo laid her on a gurney but his hand didn't leave her hair. He slowly brought his fingers through the matted curls and traced a line over her cheekbone. "The safehouse was attacked. Aurors are going to be here in minutes, but she's—"

Hermione choked on a breath.

"She's having a seizure," Draco growled and turned the bed.

Her fingers curled in the thin sheets that she imagined were no longer white. For what it was worth, she tried to hang on for as long as she could, tried to stay awake to listen to Nott reassure her that everything would be fine.

"Granger—_Granger_, you have to stay awake, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" she mumbled before plunging downward into silence.

* * *

The second hand of the clock ticked quickly. She rolled onto her side, dragging the pillow over her head to block out the sound. "Granger?" Fingers brushed her arm. "If you're awake—"

"I want to sleep."

He snorted. "You've been asleep for twelve hours. It's probably time for you to wake up. Do you want water?"

"I want to sleep."

"You're just as infuriating as you've ever been, aren't you?." A gentle hand pried the pillow away from her. She cracked one eye open to find Nott at her bedside. He wedged the pillow behind her. "How do you feel?"

As her stream of consciousness began to catch up to her, so did the noticeable ache all over her body. "Like shite. What happened?"

He pulled his hand away and hers grew cold in its absence. Nott's brows drew together and his lips pressed into a scowl. "We were attacked."

Sitting up, Hermione sighed. _Right. _They'd been in the safehouse in the middle of the night, and then… "I remember now."

"You shoved me into a panic room."

Hermione dug her fingers into her hair. "I'd do it again. It's my job to protect you."

"Draco said if I'd brought you here any later, you would have died. Not only were you bleeding out, there was a hex that hit your throat and collapsed your airway." His fingers twitched toward hers again, but he curled his fingers into a fist. "You nearly died while they cleared the blockage."

"I'm sorry I scared you." Hermione laced her fingers together. "Truly, I never meant to—"

Nott lifted his gaze and the swirling emotions were impossible to untangle. "I could have helped you, Granger. Instead, you threw me into a fucking _panic room."_

"What sort of Auror would I be if I'd allowed it? Take yourself out of the equation, Nott. Hypothetically, I'm an Auror who has been assigned to protect a high-ranking Ministry official who's received a multitude of death threats. They've been attacked. The wards have been breached. I had to make a call. What call should I have made?"

His nostrils flared. "Don't pull that bullshite—"

"I asked you a question. If I were to do anything other than protect the victim, then my employment would be terminated. If it were anyone else—"

"Am I anyone?"

Hermione paused, her lips parting. What sort of question was that? "Harry assigned me to this case so I could protect you. It's my job. I've already taken my oath to fulfill my duties to the best of my capabilities—"

Nott dropped his head to the edge of her bed. "Don't spout that at me."

"—and I'll continue to do so even at the expense of my own health. Nott, come off it! You know this is procedure."

His glare made her stomach sink. They _had _been making so much progress in terms of being acquaintances—maybe even friends.

Picking at her nails, Hermione couldn't help but fill the silence. "No. You're not anyone." She moved to fidget with the blanket. "And I'd trust you to watch my back if it ever came to that, but I…"

"What?"

"I'd never forgive myself if you were killed in an attack because I made a wrong call." Hermione glanced at him. "So, as angry as it might make you, I'd do everything the same if it happened all over again."

A machine beeped.

Nott stood. "You may be right, but I don't have to like it." With that, he exited the room.

* * *

Nott slipped his arm through hers when they returned to the manor. When he whisked them away with a sharp Side-Along, he caught her as she tripped over a crease in the rug and steadied her.

She slept soundly through the night and discovered her prescribed pain potions on the bedside table the next morning. Winky appeared with a small pop and brought her coffee, as well as an order to remain in bed. Of course, Hermione didn't listen.

He exhaled through his nose when she entered the study, but didn't appear surprised in the least. "Another body was found. I trust you're going to find out anyway, so I'll spare myself any attempts to conceal it from you."

"Smart." Her fingers crept over the edge of his desk. "Where was it found? Was it the serial killer?"

He pulled his glasses off of his face and let them slide across his desk. "I'm not sure. Potter sent a memo to tell me he's cleared me to visit the crime scene if you're feeling up to it."

"How recently was it discovered?"

"Twenty minutes ago. Meet me at the Floo in ten?"

The corner of her mouth lifted. "Make it five."

* * *

His fingers curled around her elbow as she stepped down from the ledge. She recognised the space under the bridge. "Harry must have sent the news immediately after the body was discovered."

Nott didn't say anything.

Hermione left him at the edge of the scene where Goldstein watched him a bit warily. The victim was a young witch. Blonde. Apparently French if Goldstein's absurdly loud comments were to be believed. She glanced over the body, but found nothing notable.

Her counterpart caught her eye from where he stood, and Nott nodded toward the ground. He mouthed, _come here_. As she neared him, Nott held out his arm. "Don't step right there. Look down."

Nestled in the grass was a scrap of Spell-O-Tape. "I don't understand."

He huffed. Nott leaned forward and whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Do you see Spell-O-Tape anywhere? Goldstein hasn't even established a perimeter yet. Not that it's surprising given the way he's run his mouth since we arrived."

Hermione's head snapped up. "Good job, Nott." As she turned away from him, he caught her by her arm. "What is it?"

"_You _found this. Not me. Understand?"

"I can't take credit for—"

He scoffed. "Of course you can. Don't bring my name into it, Granger. You're the Auror here. It's not as if they're likely to listen to me anyway. He's"—Nott nodded toward Goldstein—"never been fond of me anyway.

* * *

Nott was inside the room with them, despite Ron's previous complaints, but Hermione sat across from Harry. There were too many movements to keep track of: Ron's knee bouncing as he bit his nails, Harry scowling down the bottom of his glass, and heavily sighing—over and over again.

Nott made comments that were better left unsaid, but of course, he specialised in doing the exact opposite.

Hermione couldn't curb the churning in her stomach.

So she didn't attempt to try.

She slapped the bag down on the desk. "Spell-O-Tape."

Harry swore again. "This is bad."

"Bit of an understatement now," Ron said. "Are you sure it wasn't from one of us at the scene?"

"She already answered that, Weasley."

"Who fucking invited him again?" Ron flushed. "Merlin's sake, can't he wait outside? He's not going to be murdered inside the Ministry."

Thankful Nott couldn't see her, she gnawed her lip. "Can you step outside for a minute?" she asked. "I won't be long."

The door opened and closed with no response from him. It could either mean that he was irritated or hadn't cared at all. She'd know soon enough.

Drumming her fingers on her thigh, Hermione glanced between her two friends. "I want another safe house organised. Two of them. One on the record, and one off the record that only the three of us know about. Bring Kingsley into it if necessary."

Harry's knee slammed into the underside of his desk as he shifted in his chair. "You think there's inside involvement?"

"Do you honestly believe it could be anything else?"

His brows drew together. "It's a heavy accusation."

So, it was, but corruption had never been far from the roots of the Ministry. Or the DMLE for that matter. "No one ever needs to know about it if I'm wrong."

Raking his fingers through his hair, Ron grumbled, "She's never wrong."

She swallowed. "Well, I hope I'm wrong. Otherwise, we have more problems than we thought. I have a plan."

They waited.

"You're not going to like it."

"Big fucking surprise." Harry threw his quill down. "Don't even bother telling me. The less I know about this, the better."

Hermione grimaced. "Actually… I was hoping you'd come into the field with me. Both of you. I don't know who else I can trust right now. Possibly Boot. Bones."

"Get them in here so we can start a briefing. Send Nott to his office, and send—_fuck_, send Bones. We'll explain after."

She'd been right.

No one liked her idea.

* * *

Hermione joined him an hour later in the archives and nodded to Bones. "Please see Harry before you head home." She passed the message under her breath and set to her own task. Pulling various records from the shelves, she poured over Ministry policy.

Nott didn't pay much attention to her—beyond an occasional curious glance—since there were so many stacks of parchment in front of him. He pushed his glasses up his nose and propped his head up while reading through written accounts of trials after the first war.

While she wasn't surprised, Hermione _was _horrified to learn how many individuals would have had access to DMLE sanctioned safe houses. There were 267 names and there was no definitive way to whittle them down.

Slamming the weighty tome shut, Hermione sent it back to the shelf.

"What are you doing?"

"Apparently nothing. What about you?"

Nott didn't buy into her attempt to change the subject. "What are you looking for? I've seen everything in this room. I can help."

She shook her head. "It's related to your case. I can't share it with you this time."

"I thought we had moved past the secrets, Granger," Nott drawled. "What's so important you can't share with me?"

Hermione flexed her fingers. "It was a dead end. I'd only be embarrassing myself by telling you."

"I certainly won't pass up the opportunity to laugh at your embarrassment."

"Charming. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

His face darkened. "Not unless you can miraculously reverse the decision to put Lucius Malfoy on parole."

Rounding the table, Hermione took the seat immediately next to him. "You're not nervous, are you? Theo, you're going to bury whatever defence he puts up. He's a bloody monster and you'll prove that." She laid her hand over his. "Tell me what I can do to help."

His face drew closer to hers—_too close_—and his breath drifted across her lips. Theo turned his hand over, his fingers sliding between hers. "Thanks, Granger, but there's not much you can do."

Someone entered the room and she jerked backward. Heat rose in her cheeks and she knew she was far too old to _blush_. Theo smirked at her. Under the table, where no one could see, he rested his hand on her knee.

It didn't last considering he was constantly flipping through reports, but Hermione had to accept that she missed it.

That her knee was still warm where he'd touched her.

Oh, God, she was in trouble.

* * *

Theo stared at her and she knew he didn't believe her. "You're not coming with me to the safe house? Why?"

"Aurors Bones and Boot will be there. They're protecting you tonight." It was a miracle she kept her voice even as he closed the gap between them, his footfalls heavy as he did so. He tucked his fingers under her chin, lifting it so she couldn't escape his scrutinising stare. "Don't ask questions."

"I don't want other Aurors protecting me. I want _you_."

The hair on the back of her neck rose. _Merlin, get a fucking grip. _"I'll be back tomorrow." It was a promise that she hoped didn't go tits up, but at that point, Hermione wasn't even sure it would be possible. "It might be nothing."

His nostrils flared and she recognised it for what it was—a nervous tick. Fuck, how had they already been living together for so long that she could spot that.

All at once, Hermione could recall several things that she knew about him from the top of her head. It was terrifying.

"You don't believe that." His words were a low rumble in his chest and he took another step towards her as she backed away.

_Stop._

_Don't come any closer._

"You're clenching your jaw so tightly your teeth could break." Theo added, towering over her. "You're wound so fucking tight you look like you're on the verge of combusting."

If he touched her—and he had already reached for her once—she was positive she _would_.

"It's Auror business."

He scoffed. "Sure it is."

"Yes, exactly. Of course it is." Hermione blinked. "Why else would I leave you for the night? Merlin knows I can't leave you alone for too long before you attempt to get yourself murdered again. Honestly, you have zero sense of self preservation."

Her back hit the wall as he took another step. She had a feeling none of this was an act to intimidate her. But that meant Hermione had no idea what he was doing.

Or she did.

Maybe she was too much of a coward to admit it.

That was probably it.

"Hermione—"

"It's a wonder you made it as far as you did without me," she breathed. "Do you trust me?"

Theo rested his forearms against the wall over her head and leaned down. "Inexplicably."

God, she wanted to hex him. The idea didn't completely line up with her thoughts at present, but it _did_ soothe her frayed nerves. This was Nott, the same man she'd antagonised for years when they crossed paths. He'd done the same to her, citing reasons that it was just so easy to get her hackles up. Hermione had only heard that by mistake—not because she was eavesdropping—at a Christmas party hosted by the Ministry in 2009.

Wasn't it strange that they had always aimed to irritate the other?

Surely it meant something, even if it was only subconsciously. Maybe it was buried so deeply that she'd forced herself to never contemplate it. That was more like her despite how cowardly it sounded.

_No, _it meant nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

No—

He whispered her name.

She'd forgotten what she had said. She was fucked—_what had he said again; oh, right—_inexplicably.

"Then I need you to trust me right now." Her voice was breathy to her own ears. It didn't sound anything like her, not the way she knew herself.

Nott's eyes flicked to her lips and back to her eyes again. "The last time I trusted you, you shoved me into that room while you nearly—"

He would be furious in the morning.

"—and don't tell me it's your bloody job."

Hermione gripped his forearms, unsure of what possessed her to do it. She could feel the corded muscles beneath the skin, which led to unsavory images. The Floo sounded in the other room and it was only a matter of time before either Bones or Boots found them.

"You need to go," Hermione breathed. Her fingers smoothed a path over the veins that stuck out from his arms.

Theo stepped back and she did her best to ignore the hungry look that crossed his features.

She failed abysmally.

Hermione leaned against the wall, waiting for her heart rate to slow. She hovered at the edge of his bed until she heard the Floo activate once more.

She plucked a piece of hair from his brush

* * *

She watched shadows form across the floor from her vantage point in the corridor. She wasn't entirely sure where Ron and Harry had hidden, but she knew they weren't far. Lead formed in her stomach as she kept her spine straight, her fingers tight around her wand.

Doubt set in.

Ron and Harry shouldn't be here. They each had families waiting for them at home, and even if they were the only ones she trusted, it would have been safer for them to watch Nott. That wasn't to say that Boot and Bones were expendable, but they didn't have kids waiting for them to come home safe and sound.

But the truth was that she needed Harry and Ron, much more than they had ever needed her at that point. She'd closed herself off after the divorce, after the bombing, but suddenly, her carefully constructed walls were coming down.

Brick by brick.

There was only one person to blame for it, but Hermione couldn't decide if she really wanted to.

The wards fell without warning. She drew in a sharp breath.

On the lower floor, Ron cried out various offensive spells, and then there was a series of sounds.

The vase on the table in the entryway shattered. She knew it by the tinkling that the porcelain fell to the floor.

The bookcase would have splintered as it gave way. Ron probably whipped it forward with an arc of his wand.

He yelled out, but it quickly turned into a gurgle.

Hermione tipped the vial to her lips, knowing that her would be attackers were nearly on top of her. The change took place immediately. Her features shifted and Hermione grew several inches taller—into the uniform Harry had issued her before they left.

"_Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" _Harry roared.

From the corner of her eye, she watched the top of the wooden bannister split. He slid to the top of it, eyes flashing in the dancing shadows of the branches outside the window. They gave a low creak as he held out his wand and gritted his teeth.

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

_In._

_Out._

At the end of the corridor, Hermione spotted the lumbering silhouette of a man, and she made a sharp turn. Pivoting, she conjured a shield. _Crucio _slammed into it while she cast _Incarcerous _over her shoulder. It wouldn't help Harry—not efficiently anyway—but it might buy him more time.

They needed help.

The second _Crucio _met her chest and her legs gave way. Hermione's knees met the floor.

Fingers slid into her hair—Theo's hair—and ripped her head up. The sharp end of a wand dug into her throat. Yellowed teeth were revealed in the dim light as he gave her a cruel smile. "I'm going to enjoy this."

Curses were thrown through the air, and his wand started at the top of her forearm, cutting through layers of charmed clothing until it reached her wrist.

Her throat was raw from the screams he'd wrenched from her, and the part that made her sickest was that she knew exactly what Theo would sound like if he were—

Her body intimately remembered the effects of the Cruciatus curse.

The first cast made her body start to shut down. It made her feel like death.

The second made her pray for it.

* * *

Waking up in a room that reeked of antiseptic came as no surprise, but Hermione did sit up with a start as she recognised that her hands weren't really her own. The situation was only made worse by the voice that filled the corridor, drawing closer by the second.

"Get off of me!" Theo roared, and there was a thud that followed. "I fucking knew she was off doing something ridiculous again."

Well, she thought that was harsh.

The door to her room slammed open, glass rattling in its housing. Theo froze. "You've got to be fucking joking."

Draco appeared behind him, rubbing his temples. "I tried to stop him, but there was no use. He punched Terry Boot in the face."

She gaped at him. "You're _joking_." Her voice wasn't her own either. "How long until this wears off again? It's an experimental mixture by the—"

"I sincerely hope the next words out of your mouth are that you didn't polyjuice yourself as me," Theo growled.

"Well, you're going to be sorely disappointed then." Hermione twitched as her face morphed and her hands shrunk. "Ah, I see. It takes approximately that long then. Malfoy, you should probably—"

"Get out?" he offered. "Theo, I think you should take a moment to calm down. It's her—"

Theo shoved him out of the room. "You lied to me."

Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the pain that shot through her spine. "I didn't lie to you. I told you it was Auror business. And it was! If anything, I omitted the truth, but only because I knew how you'd react. Which my expectation was right on the nose."

He stalked toward her. Theo's fingers were gentle as he raised her arm. "What happened to you? What is this?"

Bile rose in her throat. "He pinned me to the floor and cut me open." Hermione whispered. "Ron—he stopped him. It was me, or, well… I think you understand. I had a wand pointed down at me and I kept waiting for that little green light to be the last thing I ever saw, but it never came."

His entire body shook.

"I need you to listen to me, Theo. This is _important_." She reached for him and he flinched. "I don't know why you're so angry, but this can't wait. Please, someone is listening to us," Hermione hissed.

Theo glared at her like he wanted to get away from her, and she wished it didn't hurt as much as it did. "You could have died. You nearly did." His knuckles slid up her arm, eliciting a shiver from her. "You say you don't know if you could forgive yourself if anything were to happen to me." He leaned down. "I need you to understand that I couldn't live with it if you'd died in my place."

She gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. His chest pressed to hers, warmth radiating from it and she did her best not to focus on that. "The safe house you were in was off the books." Hermione's lips brushed the shell of his ear. She didn't _mean _for it to happen, but it gave her a thrill when his breathing quickened. "I arranged for another—the one I went to. Theo—"

He smoothed his palm down her spine, his fingertips meeting the bare skin where the hospital gown parted.

"The threat is coming from inside the Ministry."

* * *

**I only have two more chapters to write for Red Herring, and then I will be done. Updates should be fairly regular from here on, whether it be weekly or biweekly. As always, I'd love to hear what you thought! **


	9. Chapter 9

**It looks like there was a bit of confusion on my last update. I meant I had two chapters left to write of this story (which is still true, actually, since writer's block is a nasty thing) but there are several chapters left. There are 15 total. I just have to write 14 & 15 plus the last bit of 12. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! **

* * *

After a while, Malfoy entered the room. He kept his clipboard close to his chest, fingers whitewhere they gripped it, and he shot his friend a wary glance. "Granger, you really have to stop ending up here like this."

Theo snorted and ran a tired hand down his face. "Somehow, I doubt she's going to stop."

"Your body has been put through monumental strain this week," Malfoy continued, flipping through pages of parchment. "I've given my recommendation to the Head Auror that you shouldn't be put on any missions for a week, at the bare minimum."

As much as she would have liked to argue that point, she knew her limits. Hermione nodded. "Of course. I don't think I would be able to do much at present anyway."

Malfoy didn't go into a further explanation about the effects of dark magic and how it could linger. He left them with the assurance that a nurse would check on her periodically throughout the night. Depending on her vitals in the morning, they might release her then.

* * *

Theo didn't leave.

She asked him why through a pain medication haze that made her head swirl in the most pleasant way.

"You're my bodyguard. I'm supposed to stay with you."

Hermione laughed and her lips curved upward at the sound. "I love to laugh." She groaned when her thoughts forced their way free of her mouth. "When I want you to stay with me, you always go out of your way to do the opposite. You're so bloody stubborn."

She listened to his low, raspy chuckle. "Maybe I like to make you chase me." There was a pause. "Fuck, I really hope you don't remember I said that."

"I'm gonna." Hermione allowed her head to roll to the side. "You like me."

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"You like me," Hermione repeated. "Why else would you hold my hand? Or stay with me in the hospital? Or be so angry that I'm hurt?"

He ran his finger along the lines of her palm. "Someone has to look after you."

It was as if all of the nerve endings in her hand were suddenly awake as he touched her. She never wanted him to stop, and Hermione sighed in relief when she didn't accidentally say _that_ out loud. "You want to look after me?"

Theo squeezed his eyes shut and she thought he'd pull away. "I do." It was so quiet, barely a murmur under his breath, that she almost thought she'd imagined it. "Even though you drive me fucking mental sometimes."

Air rushed from her lungs as Hermione threaded their fingers together. "I'm not easy to like."

He blew out a breath. "The problem is that you're too easy to like, Granger. You blow into my life and turn everything upside down, but fuck, you're so dense that I can't believe it sometimes."

"Theo?" She liked the sound of his name. Hermione wondered it would sound like if she were—

"What is it?"

The only background noise came from the beeping machines. "You said you wanted to look after me."

"I did."

Had he noticed the way two words affected her?

"What are you going to do if I remember that in the morning?"

Theo laughed again and squeezed her hand. "I suppose I'll stop acting like a coward."

* * *

He told her about his childhood, but if she were honest—and she probably was because she currently had no filter—it hadn't been much of one. At some point, Hermione scooted over and patted the mattress beside her. She told him the chair was uncomfortable, and she knew it was, and pestered him until he climbed onto the bed with her.

"No shoes on the bed," she said, and ducked her head down when a dopey smile curved her lips.

Theo talked about his father. It was an uncomfortable conversation for him, but he told her anyway. "He wasn't very nice, but I think you already know that."

She told him she was sorry, but Theo shook his head and said it wasn't her fault.

Theo only had fond memories of his mother. At least, what he could remember was pleasant, up until her death just before his tenth birthday. He didn't linger on the subject, but Hermione knew it had been a blood disease. It sounded like something Muggles had developed a cure for, but she didn't mention that either.

Eventually he asked her about her parents.

Hermione found it hard to focus on anything but the way his hand rested on her hip. "They live in Australia. I Obliviated any memory they had of me during the war, but everyone knows that."

"What was your childhood like?"

"We went on holiday together. My parents spent a lot of time at work, and once I entered Hogwarts, we grew further apart each year. Still, I miss the traditions we shared."

Hermione told him what it was like to enter Hogwarts for the first time, and she admitted dryly that she'd probably gotten her hopes up too much. "I thought I had found a place where I would belong, but it turned out that all children can be vindictive whether they're magical or muggle."

His apology was a whisper, just words sliding against the skin of her throat, and she told him he didn't need to apologise to her.

"I grew close with Ron and Harry eventually. It made Hogwarts more bearable, and we spent so much time getting into trouble that sometimes I have to wonder how we ever made it out of that school." Hermione laughed quietly. "Do you know about the Polyjuice incident during second year?"

"You brewed it?"

It turned out that he _did_ know about it, but the news that she'd mistakenly transfigured herself into a cat was a surprise for him.

As his sniggers grew quiet, Hermione looked up at him. He laid beside her, his head propped up, and Theo looked more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. "What was life like after the war?" she asked.

"I returned to Hogwarts like you did. After graduation, I fucked off to France with Draco, and wasted every day by drinking myself to sleep. It wasn't a pretty sight."

She'd never heard that.

"Draco's marriage was arranged quickly, within a year after that, and he convinced me to come back to England. Told me he was going to rebuild the Malfoy name from the bottom up, and said I should do the same."

"And that convinced you?"

"Fuck no." Theo's body shook with laughter. "Tori came to visit me. She said she was going to help me whether I liked it or not. One second, I was in bed and the next I was on the floor. Tori never took no for an answer. So I came back but I needed a job because most of my father's assets were seized after the war and we had heavy fines imposed on our vaults. There was a family friend who needed an assistant in the Wizengamot so I started there."

Hermione unconsciously stared at his lips as he spoke, and gathered herself the second she recognised it for what it was. "You did it, you know. You rebuilt everything."

"What about you?" While running his fingers along her forearm, Theo waited for her to answer the same question she'd asked him.

"I don't really know what happened to me after the war. Some days, I don't recognise myself anymore. I got married too quickly. I couldn't believe that I was alive, that Ron was alive, and we jumped into it before we had time to think properly. Granted, it was still two years after the war when we did marry, but there was a metaphorical ring on my finger before Hogwarts was even rebuilt. You know the rest. We divorced."

Theo frowned.

"I used my career as a distraction and here I am." There was more to say, but she muttered that she was so, so tired under her breath.

A muscled arm slid around her waist. "Sleep."

She fidgeted with the button on his rumpled shirt. "You'll still be here?"

"I'll be here."

* * *

She remembered.

God, she fucking remembered.

Theo took her home, and she didn't even stop to consider _when _the manor had become home to her. His touches lingered. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him open his mouth, but he snapped it shut, and whatever he'd been about to say was gone.

"Potter and Weasley came by while you were in the hospital. They've gone over the wards again." Theo let her bag fall to the sofa when he let go of her.

She stumbled. Not due to the ridiculous crease in the rug that never went away, but because she missed the feel of his hand on her. "I see."

"Potter told me he dismantled the wards as they were. If anyone was listening to us before, they won't be able to now."

It should have reassured her, but now that they had left the comfortable bubble that had been her hospital bed, Hermione only felt nauseous. "It's either coming from inside the Ministry, or they're being aided by someone on the inside."

"Which do you think is more likely?"

Hermione rolled her head from side to side. "The first. Is there anyone who would want to attack you that you've worked with?"

"You asked me that question months ago."

"And now I'm asking again." Hermione sunk into the sofa. Closing her eyes, she tried not to jump when he rubbed her shoulder.

She failed.

Nott pulled away from her. "I'm going to have my files delivered from my office."

Twisting in her seat, Hermione looked over her shoulder. "You're not going into work?"

He shook his head. "I'm certain if I step inside that building, I'm not going to stop until I find the person who tortured you." Theo's eyes were darkened, and if she were a different woman, it might have frightened her.

* * *

The fact that she couldn't sleep was nothing new. Hermione sat in the most comfortable chair in the study with her feet tucked below her. She slowly scanned the pages resting in her lap as she ate the finger foods that Winky had set in front of her after she refused to eat a full dinner.

Across the room, Theo mirrored her. Hermione wanted to go to him and trace his jaw until he unclenched it, but she knew if she did that he would know that she hadn't forgotten anything.

It was cowardly, but she didn't move from her spot.

The list in front of her was daunting at first glance, and the second, and every look that followed.

It was nice to sit with him in the silence, only the sound of parchment turning and the scratching of his quill to fill the room. She had the constantly recurring thought that she could just tell him she remembered. Merlin knew she wanted to, but at the same time, it meant everything would change.

He'd been a friend to her. Sure, it had taken a while to get to that point, and more often than not, they still fought, but she didn't want to lose that progress.

"You're staring again."

_Fuck_. Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm hoping by staring at your irritating features, the answer as to who would want to murder you will suddenly strike me."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Oh, is that why witches stare at me all the time then?" Despite the fact that it wasn't relevant, the faintest hue of red rose to her cheeks, and he watched her with mild amusement. "Has it come to you yet then?"

She clutched the file in her hands and her breathing grew laboured. _He can't possibly be asking me if I've remembered_. Nott was direct, but Hermione didn't believe he was _that_ direct. "What?" Grown women weren't meant to squeak, yet here she was. "What are you talking about?"

That sounded much more like herself.

Nott dipped his quill into the ink pot, eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe I should call Malfoy. Are you certain you're alright? He did say it was too soon to release you."

"What?"

His brows furrowed. "Granger, you _just_ told me you were trying to work out who wants to murder me by giving me a backhanded insult. If you don't remember that, then—"

"_Oh_." Hermione snorted. "That makes more sense."

He dropped his quill, not bothering to put it where it belonged, and stood.

"You're going to get ink all over your opening statements."

Theo came to a stop just in front of her. He pulled the thin file from her hands and laid it on the table. "There's a charm for that."

"Oh."

He knelt down, and tucked his knuckle under her chin, lifting it. "You're saying that a lot."

She couldn't _think_. "What?"

"Yeah," his lips pressed into a grim line, "that too."

The feel of his fingers against her skin was distracting. She'd noticed it before when he entered a room after her, and his hand brushed her back, but there had at least been a thin barrier between them then. Hermione ripped away from him.

Hurt flashed across his face.

"What are you doing?" she asked. The feel of his fingertips was still there.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Theo stepped back. "I was taking a better look at you. You don't seem like yourself and if I had asked you, you would have lied to me."

_This is a mess. _"And you would know if I'm lying?"

"I'm a lawyer. It's my job to know if someone is lying." He could have left it at that, and it would have been fine, but he didn't. "You're usually lying to me about something anyway."

Hermione's lips parted and a faint sound pushed its way free.

Theo looked panicked.

"I see." She struggled to form words. "I think I'll just lie down. You're right. I don't feel very well, but it has nothing to do with my physical health." Hermione snatched the stack of parchment she'd been working with and quickly exited the study.

Theo called after her, but she didn't look back.

* * *

Something had to give.

At every moment, Theo snuck glances at her, and they were never brief. His eyes raked over her, and while she'd thought it would make her uncomfortable, it only made her feel alive.

He found her close to midnight—it seemed a habit that was all their own was forming—and knocked on her bedroom door. "Are you alright?"

Perhaps cursing so loudly hadn't been the wisest idea, but Hermione knew he'd been looking for a reason to talk to her since the moment in the study. She called out for him to hang on, and wrapped her robe around herself before she cracked the door open. "I'm fine."

Theo pushed the door open. "Granger, you're a shite liar."

"And you would know, right? Since all I do is lie to you?" It was petty. It was childish. She didn't care.

He exhaled a hard breath. "In hindsight, I can see how that was a shitty thing to say." Theo didn't step into her room, but it was evident he wasn't going to leave either. "I'm sorry."

Hermione stepped to the side, motioning him in. She folded her arms over her chest, and ignored the pain that shot up her spine. "It's never my intention to lie to you. In fact, I'd prefer to never feel the need to do so, but you're irrational. From the beginning of this, you've never wanted help. You went as far as covering it up. If I had told you about my theory after the safe house, you would have done everything in your power to prevent me from going."

"_You want to take care of me?"_

"_I do."_

Her mouth dried as the words echoed in her head. Hermione swallowed hard.

"You led me to believe we were leaving the safe house _together_ during the first attack," Theo murmured. "You don't want me to help, I get it."

"No," her voice was sharp, "you don't. That's the problem. Not once have I ever told you I didn't want your help. I don't _need_ your help. Would I have rather had you watching my back so I didn't almost bleed out? Absolutely, but there are facts here." Hermione focused on the lamp visible just over his shoulder, rather than him. "Maybe they wouldn't have killed you, but all of my efforts to keep _myself _alive would have gone toward keeping you alive. Every time it's pointed out to you that it's my job to protect you, you get angry."

He sighed.

"Second." She held up two fingers. "I knew Aurors would swarm that house within minutes. I had time."

Theo shifted his weight. "I thought you were dead when you slumped against the door. All I could hear was Weasley. Then the door opened and there was _so much _blood…" He squared his shoulders. "I shouldn't have called you a liar."

"Is that an apology?"

"I'm sorry. Draco told me I was a ponce and I have to agree with him."

Hermione laughed. "One day, hopefully soon, this will be over. You'll get to go back to your normal life and you won't have to worry about being attacked in the middle of the night."

He stepped forward. "And what will you do once you're free of me?"

She meant to keep the words to herself, but failed. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it since I came home. I think some things have changed." Previously, Hermione had been avoiding Harry and Ron, their families included. Since the divorce, a chasm had suddenly appeared—probably of her own design—and she hadn't tried to close it yet.

They had. They still did try, actually, and that was more than could be said for her.

"We won't see each other anymore," Nott pointed out, looking ill.

They were on the cusp of something. She knew it. Whatever came out of her mouth next would likely define where _this_—whatever it was—went next. "It doesn't have to be that way." She settled on the words, but found them too stiff, too formal. "We both work at the Ministry. I could—"

He arched a brow.

It was, as Ron would have called it, a clusterfuck.

"I'd like to see you still," Theo said. "If I've not completely ruined any chance there might have been for a friendship here…"

While he hadn't ruined anything, Hermione was certain the traitorous organ in her chest couldn't stand a purely platonic friendship. "What are we going to do, get coffee?"

It must have been due to the fact that he'd grown used to her sarcasm because her words didn't faze him at all. "I wouldn't mind it."

Hermione opened her mouth to say that she felt the same, but faltered. She lost her footing, and firm hands reached out to steady her.

"What's wrong?" His hands didn't fall away from her hips. Warmth bled through the thin fabric.

"Just a bit of pain." She tried to feign nonchalance, but flinched again. "I was hit with a slicing hex. The wound has been sealed, but it requires a healing salve multiple times a day. I was trying to apply it when you heard me cursing."

"What do you mean _trying_?"

She tried not to think about the texture of his voice, how rough it sounded. "It's difficult, that's all. I usually apply it to a towel first and then lay on it. Using magic can dilute the quality of the ingredients."

Nott choked. "Why wouldn't you have Winky help you?"

Momentarily forgetting herself, Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She immediately winced. "I don't like to ask for help."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm surprised you don't have chronic nose bleeds since you do that so often."

Theo huffed. "You are so unbelievably stubborn. Where is the salve?"

The nerves that had only just begun to loosen in the pit of her stomach coiled once more. "Why?"

"You need help. Just let me help with this one thing, Granger."

It sounded like a horrible, horrible idea. She'd barely been able to stand the way it felt when he lifted her chin, and now he expected her to let him rub salve on her bare back? Hermione swallowed. "I don't want you to do that, and it's not because I'm stubborn."

He exhaled heavily. "I'll stop nagging you about—"

She shook her head. "No, you won't. Whinging is practically your trademark." Even with her pulse spiking, Hermione knew how difficult it was to apply on her own, and rubbing her back against a towel would only serve to irritate the wound—no matter how soft Nott's ridiculous towels were. "Fine, but I'm keeping my knickers on."

Theo smirked.

"I'll grab the salve. Just wait here." Hermione hurried into the loo, and swiped the small tub from the counter. Theo stood in the exact place she'd left him. "It's a large wound. It's not very… pretty. Honestly, I can call Winky if you'd rather not."

His fingers brushed against hers as he took the salve. "It's not a problem. Sit on the bed."

Hermione laced her fingers together to hide the way they shook. It was slight, but she had no doubt he would notice. If she had thought past the awkwardness of the situation, she might have remembered that she needed to take _off_ the robe, or at least let it fall to the bed.

Theo pulled it backward and peeled it down her back. He chuckled under his breath at her slight jump. "That will be enough. Keep your arms in the sleeves so you can pull it back on if you're too uncomfortable."

It was more uncomfortable to sit with it hanging halfway off of her, but Hermione sat perfectly still.

"I'm going to have to unclasp your bra." Theo undid the clasp with one hand, as he dipped two fingers into the salve. "Fuck, this is cold."

She nodded.

"Why don't you use a warming charm? It doesn't affect the potency."

"It's not cold for long."

When his fingers met the stop of the wound, the mixture was warm against her flesh. Combined with the feel of his fingers slowly stroking a path down her spine, Hermione let her eyes flutter closed.

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

"It's okay. Worse has happened to me."

Theo sucked in a breath. "This was my fault."

He began at the top again, and there was no way he didn't notice her shiver. "I don't blame you."

Brushing her hair out of the way, Theo's hand lingered on her shoulder for several seconds too long. "Maybe you should. I've been constantly—"

Hermione shook her head. "Please don't blame yourself."

"Are there any other wounds?"

Did he want to keep touching her?

She wanted that.

It was the only reason she gave an almost unnoticeable dip of her head. "Right here." Hermione twisted around just enough for him to see as she dragged her finger along a shallow cut in the space of her collarbone. "But it's nothing."

Theo moved to sit in front of her. "It might be a small cut, but it could get infected." _It wouldn't, _they both knew that. "I wouldn't want that to happen."

Hermione leaned her head to the side. She'd never felt so vulnerable.

His eyes darkened as they dropped to her chest.

Her robe was slipping. Inadvertently, Hermione pressed her arms together, creating a rather enticing image.

Again, his gaze raked over her and Theo looked like he wanted to devour her.

"It's from fifth year. Dolohov cursed me in the Department of Mysteries. Ugly, isn't it?"

"No." Theo traced the faded purple scar, following the line between her breasts.

"It's fine to admit it. You certainly wouldn't be the first." She struggled to keep her breathing level as his finger traced the scar's path again. "It's not my worst scar from the war."

Theo's eyes flickered to hers, and she was positive that look would haunt her. "I'm afraid to ask."

Hermione rolled up her sleeve, careful to pull her robe closed at the same time lest she accidentally bare herself. "It's under a glamour most of the time. I'm not ashamed of it." Hermione summoned her wand and held the tip to her forearm. "I just hate to be reminded of it."

Letter by letter, was revealed. There was a shimmer of magic, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm sure you knew about it. Everyone does since Rita Skeeter published all those torrid articles after the war."

"Does she still have a job with the Daily Prophet?"

"She does."

"Does she still write about you?"

He didn't touch her arm. She didn't know if it was because he didn't want to, or if he worried it might upset her. "Sometimes. Why?"

Theo held her wrist in his hand. It was a small touch, a minuscule movement, and suddenly she was on fire. "Because," his voice was nearly a growl, "I'm considering buying it so I can fire her."

A loud laugh welled up in her throat, and Hermione grinned ear to ear. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." That was a lie.

"_You want to take care of me?"_

"_I do."_

"I'm completely serious." He looked at her lips and then back up again. "Hermione, do you—"

Downstairs the Floo crackled to life. It was faint, but she still heard it, and their moment slipped away.

"Hermione!" Harry's voice rose through the manor.

His face crumbled as Theo adjusted her robe. "I'll meet him downstairs."

It took everything not to pull him back onto the bed and find out what happened next. "I'll join you after I get dressed."

Theo nodded.

Her bedroom door clicked shut, and Hermione sat there for several long seconds.

* * *

Harry and Theo stood in front of the fireplace. There was a glass of firewhisky in Harry's hands, and he drained in one swallow when she entered. "Sorry for the late visit."

"She's not meant to be working. Healer's orders." Theo nodded toward her.

She stiffened when Harry met her eyes with a questioning glance. "Right, well, I'm not meant to do anything physical. So, I sincerely hope you're not here to pull me into another mission."

He coughed. "Fuck no. I think you've done enough. How are you?"

"Sore."

"Another body was found tonight. It looks like the work of the serial killer. Goldstein's been removed from the case for gross incompetence, and I don't want you in the office at all, but I hoped I could leave this with you."

Hermione smoothed her fingers over the cover. The previous ghost of Theo's wandering hand vanished. "I'll Floo you if there's anything to say."

Winky popped in to lead Harry to the Apparition point, and they were left alone again.

The air weighed down on her, and she sighed. "I should probably look at this. It will keep me up all night if I don't."

Theo rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. "I could help, if you wanted."

She wasn't ready to leave him, and that clearly meant something, but she needed to ponder it later. Hermione sat on the sofa, tucking her legs under her. The cushion dipped beside her, and Theo sat much closer than normal for a friend.

It was far too close for an acquaintance.

Maybe it was the moment they'd shared in her bedroom, but the words slipped past her lips before she could think twice of it. "I'm starting to think that I'm not going to catch your stalker, or be of any assistance with this." She lifted the file. "One victim was too many, but now…"

He moved closer to her, which was already nearly impossible. Theo rested his chin on her shoulder. "You're overworked. Let me help." Flipping the page, his breath resembled a hiss. "Sweet Circe. Have all of the other victims had that?"

There was a deep laceration that circled the victim's neck. It dug into the flesh, where the skin had been seared away. All that remained on the either rim of the wound were layers of peeled back skin.

"No."

"I've seen this before." He lifted the picture to the light. "Do you see those runes?"

Barely, just barely, Hermione could make out dark runes carved into the skin. "This isn't the same killer," Hermione breathed. It was too soon to come to that conclusion, but she knew. "You've seen this?"

"I told you about the Reaper. He's a hit wizard."

She remembered. They'd told Harry at Easter. "No one's ever caught him," Hermione recalled. "You said he's never met me."

He flinched. "Forgive me, but I'm hoping that remains true."

"I'm tired of waiting. We need to do something."

Theo's fingers found hers. He didn't thread them together, but he rested them against hers.

Glancing down at the photograph once more, anger surged up from the pit of her stomach.

* * *

Hermione told Harry the very next day on a private Floo line to his office, and he promised her that he'd handle it. He asked her how she was and if everything was alright at Nott Manor.

Truthfully, her hesitation to answer the question had probably answered it for her.

A few nights later, Hermione watched her male counterpart from the corner of her eye. He'd been on edge throughout the day, but not once had he attempted to talk her out of her plan. It seemed he'd finally realised it wasn't going to work.

The Ministry at night was eerie. Creaks came from places that made no sound during the walking hours. "Are you certain no one will be here?"

Theo bristled. "At this hour? I doubt it. They're probably at home _sleeping_."

"How many more times are you going to mention that you're tired? You should have napped."

"I'm not a child, Granger. I don't need a bloody nap."

Smiling, Hermione arched a brow. "Are you sure? That sounds exactly what someone would say if they needed a nap."

He led her down towards the Wizengamot and held his wand to the panel just right of the door. "Be careful not to touch anything in the farthest section of the Archives. Those are war testimonies and they're warded. If you do touch them, Aurors are going to be on top of us in minutes."

As soon as the door opened, she slipped inside with him just behind her. "I'm assuming you know where to find what we're looking for."

Theo gripped her elbow and dragged her down the length of the room. He had to hold his wand up to another room, this one much smaller. She'd never been inside of it. "It's alphabetized. "It's N-O—"

"Have you ever been swarmed by a flock of birds?"

Judging by the way his face turned white, he'd heard of her squabbles with Ron. "I have not."

"Would you like to be?"

Rifling through the shelves, Hermione found his name. "How many employees have complained about you?"

He sniggered. "Quite a few from the looks of it."

"This is ridiculous—"

Footsteps sounded outside the door and her eyes snapped to his. She swore low under her breath. "We can't Apparate."

Both of them knew that.

Theo looked at the door, then back to her. He shoved the file in his hands back into the wall, and pushed her backward, his hands falling to her hips.

Hermione's lips parted, and she only had time to form a fraction of a thought before his lips crashed down on hers. She fumbled, sliding the file under his shirt. She should have stopped after casting a non-verbal sticking charm—wandless too—but she didn't pull away.

_It's only to make it realistic_, Hermione insisted as her fingers trailed over his chest.

He lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. Large hands cradled her face as his lips slanted against hers.

She tugged his hair and it felt like an eternity before the door opened.

"_Oh!_" Percy adjusted his glasses as they disentangled themselves. "Pardon me, I—"

Hermione couldn't stand there. "We were just leaving," she blurted, grabbing Theo's hand. "Right now. Good night."

Theo's cheeks were flushed. "Granger—"

She shook her head. "We need to get out of here before he catches up and questions us."

Once they made it into the Atrium, they stepped into the public Floos, and she tried not to focus on his arm as it snuck around her waist.

She failed abysmally.


	10. Chapter 10

**Coming at you with an update. Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

The next morning, Hermione could remember the way her lips tingled all the way from the Floo to her bedroom. He'd called out for her—presumably to discuss what had just happened—but Hermione had only climbed the stairs without turning around.

She had barely slept. There had been no dreams waiting for her after sliding into bed.

Hermione dressed slowly, stalling because she wasn't ready to see him. But they were adults, and more than that, she couldn't go on avoiding him in their present situation. It didn't matter that she was thirty-two years old and he'd unwittingly given her the hottest snog of her life the night before.

Theo glanced at her when she entered the dining room, a tight grimace twisting his lips. Out of all the reactions she'd expected, that wasn't one of them.

"We have trouble." He slid the Daily Prophet across the table.

Swallowing hard, Hermione prepared herself to see news that another body had been discovered. "Does this one have the same lacerations?"

Theo shook his head. "Look at the paper, Granger. There's no body, but it's still rather terrible for us."

Her knees wobbled as she glanced down.

**MIDNIGHT AFFAIRS IN THE MINISTRY**

Hermione hissed and incinerated the newspaper without blinking. "I _knew_ he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut!"

Theo nodded, not that his agreement meant much. "Yeah, well I've received a Howler, and I'm honestly worried that it's your ex-husband."

_That_ made her laugh. It sounded exactly like Ron, irrationally protective even when it had never been necessary. "He's relatively harmless—well, that's a lie."

"I know. I've seen his Auror record, and I would prefer not to have him pop up here for snogging his best mate." Theo's face was unreadable. "Listening to him screaming at me over breakfast isn't ideal either."

She rounded the table, missing the way he watched her hips sway. "Ron wouldn't send you a Howler. He might have some creative words for you the next time he sees you, but he would never overstep the way you're thinking." Hermione held the Howler, the red of the envelope growing an even deeper shade of crimson. "It's only going to get worse the longer you wait."

"I'm contemplating whether I want to ask Winky to dispose of it outside. At least the sound would be muffled."

Hermione reached for the envelope and his eyes tracked the movement. "I don't think so," she murmured, ripping the envelope open.

They both jumped backward as a loud, feminine screeching pierced the air. Covering her ears, Hermione laughed. Theo's face had grown pale and his features were pinched.

"HOW DARE YOU LEAD ME ON! I'VE NEVER MET SUCH A MAN—WELL, I HAVE, BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT. YOU ARE A DOG, THEODORE NOTT! BARELY A DOG, JUST A PUPPY THAT APPARENTLY FOLLOWS THAT LITTLE WITCH AROUND." The Howler shredded itself into bits, and scattered across the floor.

"What in the—and I cannot stress this enough—_fuck_ just happened?"

Hermione couldn't hold back a grin, not that she tried particularly hard. "You're a dog, a puppy apparently. At least puppies are cute."

He wasn't amused in the slightest. "I'm positive that whoever this woman is"—he waved at the remnants of the Howler—"I've never met her, much less slept with her."

She arched a dark brow. "Do you normally forget your partners?"

"Are you saying _you_ remember? When were you there? Merlin, Granger, are you a voyeur?" He leered at her, and it was different.

It was like drawing a much needed breath.

She snorted. "I am no such thing. I just happen to be paid to be observant."

"Here I thought the Ministry paid you to be a massive pain in my arse." Theo rolled his eyes.

"It sounds like the witch from Malfoy's party. Tall, blonde, wrapped around you?" Hermione's hip bumped the table. "So, no, you didn't sleep with her, but I'm sure you would have."

Sputtering, Theo asked, "How do you remember her?"

"I tend to remember someone screaming at me to get out when I'm telling them to do the exact same. If you recall, she wasn't a fan of my telling Malfoy to lead her out." Actually, Hermione vividly recalled that the witch had appeared perfectly at home on her knees.

In front of Theo.

A terrible line of thought followed, but she chased it anyway.

"Our real problem is the article. Harry will want to see me first thing and I've no doubt that we'll be under more scrutiny than ever before. All of my decisions so far will be called into question." She sighed. "I probably should have read that article before I burned it."

A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. "I read it while you took your time getting out of bed. She attacked your professionalism, and mentioned the Chief Warlock has already called our relationship into question once already. I've seen a lot of scandals, Granger."

"I'll bet."

He ignored her. "This is bad. With the ongoing murder investigations, I think—" Theo broke off. "I think we need to be more careful than we have been. There's something at play here, and we have to bide our time until we can solve it."

Winky popped into the room, holding out a letter. "For mistress." She vanished from the spot.

"It's from Harry," Hermione announced, ripping it open. She skimmed its contents, finding it to be exactly what she thought. "He says that it's _okay_ if our relationship has changed, and he goes on to explain why it's okay, which I didn't really need. In addition, he's asking me if I can remain level headed so I can stay on this case or if I would prefer being reassigned."

"Potter's not putting another fucking Auror on me."

* * *

She left Theo to wait outside the office of the Head Auror, where he glared at anyone who stared. Both Harry and Ron were waiting for her inside, but Ron's face was decidedly more red. "You're fucking kidding, aren't you? Tell me this was a ploy because you were snooping."

"Yes, it was because we were snooping." It _was_ true, but Hermione knew it was more than that.

Harry peered at her over the wire rims of his glasses and narrowed his eyes. Evidently, he'd picked up on that fact. "Hermione, I need to know if you can remain on the case. Honestly, if you can't, I'm worried it will fall apart entirely."

"I'm good." There was no one else that could protect Theo anyway, not when they weren't sure who was against them or why. "I'm sorry for this. I know it's going to cause trouble."

"Yeah, it's not every day something like this happens. You know how the media is, they're always looking for something to hold against the Ministry. Today it's this, tomorrow it will be—"

Ron snorted. "No offence, but it will probably still be this until Lucius Malfoy goes to trial."

She didn't need the reminder. "Right, well—"

The door swung open and Harry muttered that no one ever fucking _knocked_. Percy Weasley had the audacity to smile at her and held out a single piece of parchment. "Excellent that you're here so early. I would have assumed you'd still be in…"

Theo leaned in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. "If you finish that sentence, she's going to send you out the window. I certainly wouldn't mind helping her, not that she needs it."

Percy looked to them both. "Oh, is this about the article? There's no reason to be upset. If the two of you want your relationship to remain private, then you ought to—"

"Should I air all of your misgivings?" Theo drawled. "I would be more than happy to ring the Daily Prophet and explain to them why you haven't been promoted. That's what they always ask you, isn't it?" He stepped into the room, but didn't shut the door, and Hermione knew he'd drawn the attention of the entire office.

Percy's cheeks tinged red.

Theo stood several inches taller than Percy, his head tilted to the side. "Oh, forgive me, Weasley. They stopped asking you that when everyone realised you were nothing but a fucking kiss arse. All you've ever done is latch onto coat tails instead of climbing the ladder on your own."

She caught Ron's panicked look, something vicious twisting in her stomach.

"Not this time though. You're not dragging Hermione's name through the mud so you can get a high from it. Do you understand?"

The parchment crinkled as she gripped it. Several Aurors stared into the office, and Boots met her eyes.

Percy didn't say anything.

"I said, do you _understand?_" Theo repeated, his voice nearly a snarl.

"Perfectly." Percy recovered, but not well enough to give an illusion of composure. "Hermione, a bit of advice—"

"Percy, dont," Ron muttered.

Hermione glanced down at her hands and opened the missive. It was a court order. "Did you arrest the Reaper?"

"I did." Wearing a smug grin, Harry leaned back in his chair. "Ginny's furious with me because I went into the field, but we brought him in last night. Why?"

She grinned at Theo. "I have several questions about how you did that, considering he's been notoriously impossible to catch, but this is a court order granting permission to interrogate him via Veritaserum."

Hermione and Theo stayed to hear how the raid had gone while Percy slipped out with Ron the first chance he got.

* * *

Hermione sat beside Malfoy, glancing at him every so often to gauge his reaction to the scene in front of him. "How do you feel about this?" she whispered.

He leaned toward her, white blond hair dropping into his face as he lowered his head and whispered, "If you want me to be honest, I feel like I'm about to vomit."

"Be sure to face away from me then." She reached behind him and rubbed his back in an attempt to be supportive. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry this is happening."

It spoke volumes that he didn't shove her away. "I am as well, but I know Theo's going to send him back. They should have ruled for him to have the Kiss, but the Ministry insisted on doing away with the Dementors."

It hadn't been the easiest of laws to overturn. She could recall reading over it with Ron at a kitchen table, in a house that was not a home. "You know it was the right decision."

He nodded. "Of course it was. I only wish they would have waited longer to make that decision." Between their seats, Malfoy watched her cover his hand with her own. "You're too kind, Granger."

Malfoy was Theo's best friend, and in the years since their terrible experiences in school, Hermione had seen him change. Time and time again, Malfoy had surprised her, and right now, she knew he needed support. His wife couldn't be there for him, and Astoria was probably the only person in the world that could have calmed him effectively, but she could at least try to be a friend.

"Scorpius is missing all of his classes today," Draco whispered. "I told him I would bring him home for the length of the trial if he wanted me to."

"He didn't?"

The room shuffled, a hundred spectators moving in their seats as the chief warlock entered the room.

Malfoy shook his head. "For the most part, his classmates haven't given him trouble. Scorpius has always remained steadfast in his opposition of Lucius, and of the less savoury facts of our family. Though, I suspect there might be more trouble than he's letting on."

How terrible. "If he takes after you at all, he'll be okay."

"He wanted to be here, but I told him he was too young to hear the things Lucius did. The truth is that my father has never seen my son in person, and I have every intention of keeping it that way."

Hermione gave him a somber smile; her heart panged at the unfairness of the situation. Children could be cruel—both of them knew that fact all too well. "What do you think he's doing right now?"

Draco's chest deflated. "Right now? I know he and Albus are hiding in their dorms with all the treats Scorpius' allowance will buy—"

She snorted and two wizards to the side of them glared. "What's his allowance, ten galleons?"

Malfoy made a show of sniffing delicately—and it was scarily reminiscent of his mother—before he turned his nose up. "It's one, thank you, but it's usually less than that considering he's a little hellion." The members of the Wizengamot began to file in. "Potter's other son is with them. Scorpius let it slip that there was a recent… incident and James stepped in the middle of it."

"Well, if there's any trouble, James inherited his mother's temper and her proclivity to cast a wicked Bat-Bogey Hex." Hermione smiled. "I think Scorpius will be just fine."

Theo stood behind his table, sneaking a glance at the two of them.

A pointy elbow nudged her ribs. "Did he just wink at you?"

Hermione muttered, "No, I think that was for you."

Lucius was led into the room with shackles around his wrists and ankles. His face was sunken in, creating a ghostly appearance that didn't surprise her after a long stay in Azkaban.

Chief Warlock Ogden's gavel came down, the sound rippling through the room, and her amusement evaporated.

* * *

If the opening statements were anything to go by, Theo was going to deliver another win for the Ministry, and Lucius Malfoy would go back to Azkaban—hopefully as a permanent resident. The first day of the trial moved slowly as both sides introduced their arguments.

With his voice amplified by a standard _Sonorous_, Theo posed an intricate argument as to why the defendant—she saw his eyes harden when the word left his mouth—shouldn't be allowed back into society.

Lucius' defense attorney floundered in the beginning, citing that growth was constant and the times had changed. Forgiveness was more possible than ever.

At her side, Draco snorted under his breath. "Fuck's sake, is he serious?"

She shushed him.

Hours passed with little gained, and her leg began to fall asleep.

The door leading into the chamber from the direction of Theo's office slammed open, and the room fell silent. A young wizard approached the stand, and slid a piece of parchment toward Ogden. The lumbering man unfolded it, and his forehead creased as he frowned. "We will be adjourned for the day. This trial will resume in the morning at nine."

"What the fuck is going on?" Malfoy hissed. "It's barely two—"

Theo waved her forward. She hurried into the aisle, making her way towards the front of the room. "What's going on?"

With his features drawn and grim, Theo leaned down to whisper in her ear. "There's been a security breach in the DMLE holding blocks. That was one of Potter's interns. He says he needs you." Hot puffs of air drifted down her neck, and his lips skimmed her ear.

There was no possible way it was an accident.

Someone bumped into her from behind and she found herself pressed against Theo. "We look ridiculous. We need to leave now if there was a security breach. Are they going to allow us to—"

"Granger," he breathed. "You're not going to want to leave once you realize what's happened. Trust me."

"Tell me then."

Placing his hand at the middle of her back, Theo grabbed his briefcase and led her from the room. Before she could mention that would only make the publicity around them worse, there were several flashes. He forced a path through the growing crowd of people—some reporters, and some who were also attempting to leave.

Hermione muttered that she'd promised Malfoy they would leave together, but Theo shook his head, urging her forward. "They're containing everyone."

At the end of the corridor, she saw Aurors herding every witch or wizard to what looked like a checkpoint.

Whatever had happened, it was bad.

And if Theo didn't spit it out, she would lose her mind.

"Is there a reason you're not telling me right now?" Hermione followed him up the stairs, and realized they were approaching a private lift connected to the DMLE.

Tugging her inside, his hands lingering on her waist longer than necessary, Theo waited for the doors to shut. The lift began a slow climb, each bump felt just below her feet. "Theo?"

"It's not just a security breach. A suspect was murdered not even fifteen minutes ago. I have to hand it to Potter, he formed a strategy quickly."

Breathing hurt.

He stared down at her. "What? Are you not going to tell me this is standard DMLE protocol for—"

"Tell me who it was." Hermione took a step, a short step, and closed the already small gap.

"The Reaper."

She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. "What?" Hermione hoped it was a false report. They happened all of the time, but she knew, without a doubt, from the pitying look he gave her that it was anything but. "Fuck!"

Theo caught her wrist before she could hit the wall. "I'm sorry. Potter wants us in the DMLE, but afterward…"

The lift came to a stop and the doors slid open.

When they stepped out, Hermione found the entire room had plunged into chaos. There was a chair overturned—Boot's. He'd probably sprung out of too quickly. Loose parchment littered the office.

"I didn't do it!" a man screamed.

Hermione hurried toward the voice, and she barely heard Theo's footsteps quicken as he rushed after her. She slid to a stop at the scene that had taken over the corridor. Ron had a hand wrapped around the clerk's arm, hauling him forward, even as he collapsed partially to the floor.

"I don't remember anything!"

Theo helped her balance, but she thought she would be sick.

Harry came to stand beside them, and cleared his throat. "The clerk was meant to release Veritaserum to Ron, it was a poison that looked exactly the same to the eye. Ron issued the potion—we thought it would be best, all things considered—but it was already too late. It was a fast acting poison."

She knew that she'd heard the words, but Hermione could only nod numbly.

The clerk continued to thrash as he was led away by Ron, kept screaming that he had nothing to do with it.

"He's been Obliviated." Hermione forced her voice to remain level. It didn't work. "We're not going to find anything at all."

* * *

"Someone was murdered inside the Ministry today."

Theo's hand paused above the parchment. Ink dripped from the end of his quill as Hermione stepped into the room, her hands tucked behind her back. "I know."

Soft light flickered from the candles that dotted the room, and Hermione chose to focus on the wax melting on each of them rather than the growing nest of hornets in her stomach. "You're not safe. I suppose you've never been safe, not really."

He didn't drop his quill. "It seems I've always been pretty safe when you're around. It's not your fault it happened, Granger. He was a criminal—"

Hermione took small, slow steps towards him while she tried to figure out what she could say to make him see reason. When she came to a full stop, her fingertips brushing the nameplate that sat at the edge of his desk, nothing had sprung to mind. "I'm not mourning his death."

There was a thud under the desk, probably his knee. "Granger, I already know what you're here for."

"I thought you might."

He clenched his jaw, and his grip snapped the quill. "Then you already know what I'm going to say."

"I'm hoping I'll get lucky and you'll have changed your mind," she uttered softly. "He was poisoned, Theo. Don't you see how easy it would be to get to you?"

"The two events aren't related."

"That doesn't matter." She fidgeted with a trinket on his desk. "Now that it's been done… Theo, please stop prosecuting Lucius Malfoy. I will _beg_ you if I have to."

Theo held up his hand. "There's no need to beg. I'm not quitting something I've already started."

Hermione didn't argue. "Then I've done all I can." She sighed and turned on her heel.

Technically, she could officially recommend that he be placed on a temporary, paid suspension, but if she did that, he'd never forgive her. It was something Hermione could live with, but it would never be allowed when the Ministry of Magic desperately needed him in that courtroom.

* * *

Between the ongoing trial, the fiasco that had rapidly snowballed inside the Ministry earlier that week, and their own publicity issues, they didn't get a chance to speak to one another.

Hermione remained quiet while thumbing through the file they had taken from the file room, and Theo focused heavily on the case at hand. At night, his door hardly ever met the frame long enough to click shut, a steady stream of visitors pouring in to see him. She'd been able to block out the sound eventually. Malfoy stopped in, but only for a moment.

Harry and Ron dropped by for her, whispering that there were no new developments. Unfortunately, Harry came with the news that in light of the recent developments, the DMLE would be shifting any resources currently on Nott's stalker to the murder of their suspect.

It left Theo wide open.

Before she could argue the news, Harry informed her that a safe house had been arranged, _off the record. _It didn't do much to reassure her, but Theo had taken the news well. Maybe it was due to the fact that they had barely spoken since he told her he wouldn't drop the case, but Theo only nodded.

They arrived through the Floo at Nott Manor, squished together side by side in the small space.

"I'm going to pack enough for a few weeks. Who knows how long this trial will last. It'd be just like Lucius Malfoy to drag it out over months." Hermione gripped the railing as she climbed the stairs. "Don't forget anything. We're not coming back until this is over."

Theo caught her arm and tugged. "I think we ought to talk about what's been bothering you."

"If you want." She lifted her chin and shrugged. "I hate that you're putting yourself in danger, but I understand this is what you feel you need to do." Without waiting for a response, Hermione turned and made her way towards her room.

Hermione froze.

With her door clicking shut behind her, it was all she could do to stare at the vanity. On the mirror there was a photograph. She neared it cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest.

It was tucked into the edge where the wood hugged the mirror inside of it. Her fingers trembled as she pulled it down.

She recognised the bathroom as the one she used inside Nott Manor.

It was a photo of her in the shower, though she couldn't see her own body through the steamed glass, but ther was no doubt it was her.

Bile rose in her throat as she turned it over.

_Has he told you yet? What he thinks about you? If you're lucky, maybe he'll tell you before one of you is dead._

* * *

**Whomp whomp. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, please read this author's note, even though I know notes are irritating to read. I'm taking a slight hiatus, and have been sitting on this chapter for a few weeks. I wanted to leave you with this though. I will warn you that it does end with a slight cliff hanger, but you do get some Theo/Hermione relief that you've been waiting for! **

* * *

A sense of pride swirled in her stomach as she followed him into his office. He kicked the door shut behind them, cutting off the voice of a reporter who had rushed after them while holding up his media badge.

Hermione snorted. "You could talk to him, you know."

Theo glanced at her, his gaze raking from her head to her toes as he cracked open the portfolio on his desk. "I could, but I only get so much time to eat mediocre takeaway for lunch. I'd rather not spend it talking to a reporter who is only going to ask asinine questions."

She took the plastic container he held out. "How do you know it's going to be an asinine question?"

With his mouth already full of curry, Theo rolled his eyes and made a show of swallowing. "I'm sorry, did you miss the part where I said he was a reporter? Bring your chair over here."

"Why?"

"I want help going over these statements before we go back in. Do you mind?"

Hermione shook her head and watched him point his wand at her chair. The legs screeched against the floor. Settling into the plush leather, Hermione tucked one leg under her, ignoring the look he gave her. "What do you want me to do?"

Theo levitated the statement in front of her. "Eat, Granger. Just don't get your grubby little hands on my witness statements."

"They're not little," she muttered, shoveling her food into her mouth.

He arched a brow. "So, you admit their grubby?"

_Arse_. Hermione leaned forward, and her mouth fell open. "Holy shit, you're joking. Theo, is this a statement from his wife?"

Hermione skimmed the text with Narcissa Malfoy's name staring back at her.

The woman had apparently held absolutely nothing back when she'd sat down to pen her testimony.

"Narcissa filed for divorce a few months ago. It seems, even from Azkaban, he's been able to keep the process tied up."

It was horrible, but she found that it was impossible to be surprised. "Is there any way you can help her expedite the process? Surely with your connections…"

He nodded. "I've spoken with the Department of Magical Bonds. From what I read, Abraxas Malfoy insisted on a non-traditional ceremony when it came time for his son to marry." Theo's voice dropped, and he looked towards the door. "It was dark magic. Lucius might not have known it was going to happen—which is what he'll say when this is over and it comes back to Narcissa—but he knew as soon as the vows were read."

She shifted in her seat, remaining completely quiet.

"It'll take a cursebreaker for the proceedings to go forward."

Muttering a low curse under her breath, Hermione returned to the parchment. It detailed the fact that Lucius hadn't been physically abusive during the course of their marriage—which was a small consolation, given everything else that had happened—but explained that he hadn't hesitated once Voldemort returned. Lucius had willingly gone to the Dark Lord, even before his Dark Mark burned, and he still supported him inside Azkaban.

Hermione had seen a lot over the course of her years as an Auror. There were terrible things that would never leave her, short of Obliviation, but an explicit account of a revel had her pushing her food away. "I can't," she muttered when he looked at her questioningly. "The revels…"

"I understand. You don't need to read that part if you—"

She shook her head.

"It's not your job to listen to everyone's story, Hermione." Theo sighed. "Besides, you're going to hear it anyway in twenty minutes. You might as well not go through it twice."

Reaching up, Hermione took the statement, and felt several pages press down into her hands. "Who else gave statements?"

"Draco wanted to, but I can't put him on the stand. They'd tear him apart." He rested his chin on his knuckles. "I'm more worried about him being tossed out of the room than the fact that he's too close to it."

That sounded like him, Hermione thought.

Even if his father's defence attempted to discredit him, Hermione could assume it wouldn't go over well. "You're doing great."

"Thank you." Theo's hand bumped into hers. "Have you made any progress in my case yet? You probably would have told me, but—" The pitch of his voice had skyrocketed.

Choosing to ignore it, Hermione nodded toward her bag. "I've crossed off about fifty names for those who had access to the information about the safe house, but still nothing. Have a look if you want. You're just going to tell me that everyone on the list hates you again."

"I didn't say everyone hated me." He snorted. Theo held out his arm after levitating her bag, not keen to get out of his seat, and pulled the worn folder from inside of it. "I said most of them disliked me. There's a difference. One might mean they wanted to have me brutally murdered—"

Hermione didn't laugh.

"Or if it's the latter, they may just want to see me publicly embarrassed. Also, you should clean this out. It's a mess." He drew a line through several names. "These ones don't have the mental prowess to orchestrate this mess."

She didn't look up as he reached into the side pocket and waved the wrapper of a sweet just out of her peripheral.

Theo cast a silencing charm.

"What are you—"

"What is this?" His voice was deadly low. Trapped between two fingers, he held the photograph of her in the air.

The floor wobbled under her feet. With the colour draining from her face, Hermione swallowed, and found her mouth to be dry. "Fuck. You weren't supposed to see that," she muttered in a quiet breath. "I've already reported it to Harry. It's nothing. This is just an attempt to rattle us."

Theo rested his elbow against his desk and leaned forward. "When did you get this?"

"Last week and I reported it to Harry the very next morning." She found it a bit hard to look at him when his eyes hardened. "I didn't tell you because you would have worried."

"Of course I would have."

"You would have berated yourself for putting me in danger again, even though you're not the one putting me in danger at all." Hermione reached for him, and laid her fingers over his. "It's clear the photograph had to have been taken a long time ago. This would have been taken before the wards were redone, before we went to the first safe house."

His nostrils flared. "I don't care _when _it was bloody taken. I care that it was taken at all!" Theo glared at the photo again, and his hand curled into a fist. "You should have told me."

A figure passed in front of the office.

"We haven't been speaking much, so I just let it go. You're too busy with this, and to be perfectly clear with you, I want that man back in Azkaban as much as the next person, possibly more. This would have been a distraction."

"I don't understand how this was taken." Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. "The wards inside the manor may not have been the strongest, but this?"

Truthfully, she didn't know either. Hermione doubted it was his stalker searching for a chink in the manor's armor. She suspected he preferred to pull the strings, testing how high his pawns would jump. Laying the statement by his hand, Hermione's shoulders fell. "You shouldn't worry. I've proven time and time again that I can protect myself, haven't I?"

He stood and there were only inches between his chest and hers as he towered over her. "Of course you have," Theo whispered. He curled her hair around his finger, and allowed the side of his hand to brush against her cheek. "It doesn't mean I'm going to like that there was someone only a few feet away from you—-while you were nude in the shower, no less."

She leaned into him without thinking. "Careful," Hermione breathed, lifting her eyes as he stared down at her. "Or I might start to believe there's some truth to that note."

Theo's eyes flashed, and one arm hooked around her waist. He pulled her forward, cradling her face while his lips crashed down on hers.

Her mind must have fizzled when Theo's hand closed on her hips moments later because, truthfully, Hermione only possessed a vague recollection of pushing him into his chair and climbing into his lap. "We shouldn't be doing this." She ran her hands up his chest, warmth radiating through his robes as her hands slipped beneath the heavy fabric.

He didn't reply. His hands slid down her back as it arched and rested on her arse.

The chair squeaked as it leaned backwards with them.

"We need to stop."

"I don't want to." He nibbled her lower lip.

Her fingers sank into his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp. "You're due back in court soon."

They had ten minutes.

A lot could be done in ten minutes.

"Do you think I can't walk in there and win a case after snogging you? I'm offended, Granger."

"Are you telling me you're not that affected by me? Maybe I should try harder." Hermione slanted her lips to his again, and a low whimper left her.

Fingers climbed a slow path up her sides, ghosting over her ribcage and then the sides of her breasts. "I'm not going back." Theo deepened the kiss before she could attempt to form a reply. "Bloody hell—" he growled when she rolled her hips.

She'd imagined this more than once since they'd been caught snogging. Hermione had wondered what it would be like with those late nights in his office, for something to finally shift and fall into place… but there wasn't time to contemplate it now.

Even if she was certain that they'd been heading exactly where she wanted to be.

He gently traced her the bow of her lips. "Call Potter. I'll go anywhere you want, but I'm not going to leave you this time."

Hermione pulled away, her eyes widening while her thighs still bracketed his.

"I'm dropping the case, if that wasn't clear." His hands rested on her legs, thumbs sliding deliciously close to the apex of her thighs.

* * *

Harry stared at them over the rim of his glasses, his mouth falling open. "You're sure about this? They're saying the trial will only last through the end of the week. The jury is getting impatient. They're all ready to get back to their own lives."

"I'm positive."

Hermione stood at Theo's side, partly wishing she could grab his hand, but she _had_ told Harry there was nothing going on between them. Her lips were still a bit numb from the snogging session they had struggled to cut short moments earlier.

But then there had been no one in the lift with them and Theo had caged her against the wall.

"If you hand this case over, all the bragging rights will go to someone who didn't do the work."

As much as she didn't want him to continue, Hermione didn't want him to resent her for it later either. "I already told him that. He's not going to change his mind, Harry."

"Right. Then I'll get this together and we'll go from there. It's going to take me a couple of hours to get a safe house ready that no one but I can find. Think you can wait?"

Theo's smirk grew. "Oh, I'm sure we'll find something to do to pass the time."

A shiver ran down her spine.

* * *

Theo grabbed everything from his office in a hurry once his request was approved. Parchment crinkled as it slid into his briefcase. She couldn't ignore his frown. "If you're going to apologize to me again, you really don't have to."

She hadn't planned on it, but it had crossed her mind so it was all the same really. "I know you wanted to win."

He nodded.

His door opened slowly and Hermione's stomach dropped. Percy's gaze raked over them as he sized up the office. "They've assigned me to this case."

"I'm sure you're pleased," Theo replied unevenly.

"_You can still change your mind," _Hermione mouthed.

Theo yanked the middle drawer out too roughly and it caught the edge of the metal with a loud _bang_. "Since when does taking over a case involve stealing an office, Weasley?" He sank into his chair, a smug smirk on his face while he rifled through papers. "Don't worry, I'll be out soon."

Hermione regretted never asking more about the rift between Theo and Percy. She knew that Percy had never quite been able to bridge the gap to gain the public's favour after the war. It had been so difficult to regain the trust of his own family—even when it came to Molly, who had never believed her children could do wrong.

Clearly, there was something more than professional jealousy at play here.

And, secretly, she'd double checked that his name wasn't on the list after the confrontation in Harry's office. "Percy, there are witnesses waiting to be prepped in the DMLE," Hermione cut in. "If you've come to gloat, might I offer you a bit of advice?"

Theo snorted.

"You ought to put the effort you make to irritate Nott towards being a lawyer. He's already made the case, of course, but do try to finish it properly." She flashed him a bright smile.

He fumbled to adjust his glasses and slammed the door as he exited.

"I could kiss you right now." Theo leaned back in his chair, fingers splayed over the edge of the armrest. "He's always been an arse."

Hermione couldn't think about straddling him again, despite how enticing the thought was. "Why is that? I've never cared for him, but he was my brother-in-law for a short time. I avoided him even then."

Tapping his fingers, Theo asked her why that was.

"He's unnecessarily cruel. He used to ask me when I was going to get pregnant, as if we weren't trying, which he knew. Toward the end, when Ron and I had decided separately that it was never going to work, Percy had the gall to ask me what was wrong with me."

His nails bit into the luxury leather as he scowled. "Did you hex him?"

"Actually, I recall bursting into tears in the middle of the kitchen. Ron was more furious than I'd ever seen him. The next thing I knew, his wand was at Percy's throat while he ranted that I'd done more during the war than _he_ ever had. I left after that and Percy never mentioned it to me again."

He came to stand in front of her, his fingers bumping hers. "I'm sorry for questioning you about it myself, when this first—"

Hermione kissed him, quieting the apology on his lips. "It's alright. You've apologized several times over now."

"Still not enough." He tossed his briefcase into the chair and backed her toward his desk. "I'm fairly certain I could spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Let me decide that." She wound her arms around his neck. "What are you—Oh, my God—"

Theo swiped an arm over his desk, sending everything tumbling to the floor. "Let's leave a mess for him to take care of, shall we?"

It was immature, but she didn't manage to tell him that.

* * *

They went to the manor first, then Apparated to a safe house. The floor creaked under her feet, and she found several notches in a door frame where it seemed someone had marked their child's height. Her stomach rolled as she flipped the envelope in her hands.

She and Theo had snogged multiple times throughout the day, but not once had they discussed the threat that had been sent to her. Nor had they discussed the hippogriff in the room. They'd been dancing around it for a long time. Since the very beginning, she suspected, even before she'd developed any feelings for him.

Winky had pressed the missive into her hands hours earlier at the manor, and it had weighed on her ever since. She needed to tell Nott, lest she cause another argument, but Hermione hadn't even opened it. Anxiety swirled in her stomach, cresting with each rapid shift, and she forced one foot in front of the other.

Hermione found Theo in the sitting room. He sat curled up at the far end of the couch, his mouth wrapped around the end of a sugar quill that he'd apparently stolen from her. "I'm looking through this list again. Since I can't work on the trial anymore, I figured I could attempt to make myself useful. Cassius Smith only has half a mind, and even that's not fully sane, but he—"

"Winky gave me something before we left." She held it up and noted disdainfully that her hand was shaking. "I haven't opened it."

Theo pulled his glasses from the bridge of his nose. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "I don't want to know what's inside. I could send it to Harry immediately, but…" Hermione sat beside him, and dropped it into his lap. Without opening it, she knew it would be bad.

His throat bobbed when he swallowed and Theo pulled it open gently. "Would you rather I look at it before you?" At her nod, he pulled a photograph from it and turned it over. "Fucking hell." He slammed it face down onto the table beside him.

"Is it for me?"

"Yes, it's for you." He forced the words through gritted teeth as he clenched his jaw. "You need to contact Potter."

Of course.

Hermione reached for it, berating herself for not opening it first. Once it was turned over, she yanked her hand away as if it burned her.

She'd been sleeping.

Her arm was tossed over her eyes, a habit that was haunting to see staring back at her. The strap of her camisole had slid down one of her shoulders, revealing the swell of her breasts, and the end of Dolohov's scar.

The sheets were bunched around her waist and the hem of her top was pushed up.

"He was right there." Hermione swallowed, looking back at him. "It's a good thing we came. Nothing will happen here, Theo."

"We thought that the first time." Theo dragged his hands down his face, his elbows resting on his knees. "Stay at my side at all times, Hermione. Please." He gripped her hand, swiping a thumb over her knuckles.

"We would have to share a bed." Hermione attempted to feign humor.

He blew out a breath and left the room.

Perhaps comedic relief hadn't been the best idea. It seemed to always go so well for Ron, she thought.

Theo returned, minutes later, after a string of several suspicious thumps upstairs. "There's only one bed now." He smirked.

Spluttering, Hermione asked, "What happened to the other one?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets. "I vanished it."

Laughter tore free from her throat—loud—and it felt so _light_ that she wanted to chase that feeling. Over and over again. "You're incorrigible."

Theo pulled her to her feet, and she kissed him that time. He'd already been leaning in, but she balled her hands in the front of his shirt. "Don't let go." Before she could ask what _that_ meant, there was a _crack_ and they landed in the upstairs bedroom. "I didn't feel like wasting time walking up here."

* * *

**If you went ahead and read this chapter, please know that I'm appreciative! I'd love to hear what you think here or on tumblr at mrsren. **


End file.
